


Scream No More

by madeleine334



Series: Fear Evermore [1]
Category: Boondock Saints (Movies), The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alexandria Safe-Zone, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death, Explicit Language, F/M, Flashbacks, Gen, Gun Violence, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Muteness, Original Character(s), Out of Character, Post-Terminus, Terminus (The Walking Dead), Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-07-27 04:34:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 33,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16211510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madeleine334/pseuds/madeleine334
Summary: The damage they had done was irreparable. Those monsters were irredeemable. His brother, irreplaceable.Terminus was in the past, the future would be different.Rick's group had taken him in. Connor was grateful.Alexandria, on the horizon. Nightmares, ever present.Screaming, no longer.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The posting schedule for this will be irregular, I'm about to move to a place with no wifi.  
> Thank you for reading! Please do not post spoilers in the comments. I am not up to date on the comic or the tv show and I do not expect readers to be, either.  
> Sorry if the summary sucked, I didn't know what to put.

Conner MacManus was many things; Irish, a twin brother, a hell raiser, marksman with a gun, wanted Saint, Catholic, and now, damaged. He was also being held captive by cannibalistic psychos that tore him away from his brother. Days had passed, blurring into weeks, and hell, maybe he had been stuck in this cruel and heinous town for months, only getting light from the opening of the boxcar he was locked in when the kind residents of dear old Terminus deemed it necessary to feed him. He screamed in the beginning, screamed for his brother, screamed for his freedom, screamed for the help that would never come before he could scream no more. 

Noises came from outside, gun fire, screaming, and crying. But, he was in here, in his boxcar, all alone. There were others there with him, once. Back when he could scream. A little boy, an older woman, and a teenage girl. All gone now, taken by the Terminus citizens. Gone. All gone.

Movement. He could hear it, no, he could see it. His door was opening. Light poured into his little boxcar shaped cage. Who were these beings in front of him? Here to finally kill him off, Connor hoped. He had suffered and wished to suffer no more. He was no fool; he knew the fate of his brother. He had not witnessed it, but he had ears, still. The brothers should have never gone South of Boston. He could hear the noises before he was taken back to the boxcar after he was so severely damaged. Murphy cried when he was taken from Connor, Connor cried when he saw Murphy beaten in front of him just before they were separated and put in their little boxcars. These prisons of metal, keeping the brothers apart had finally opened after two days of no food or water.

“There’s someone in here,” he heard a voice. It was a woman, that much he could tell. See, not so much. The harsh sunlight hurt his overly sensitive eyes. Darkness had become his everything in his boxcar cage. Light was now his enemy. Light meant Terminus and Terminus meant suffering.

“Is he alive?” another voice asked, a male this time. 

“Yeah,” said a different voice, another male. The voice was gruff and quiet, but it was still heard by Connor’s sensitive ears. He heard many things now, so many things after the damage. “Knew he’d still be here. They wouldn’t’ve killed him, yet. Not after what they had put him through. They wanted him to suffer.”

They, oh yes, they being Terminus. They were monsters. They deserved to die. They deserved to be destroyed after what they had done to Murphy and Connor, after what they had done to all of those people, women and children, too, the ones who must never be harmed. But, he would not break their code, not even for these monsters, Connor thought. The women and scant children of Terminus were monsters, but he could not harm them. The code forbid it, even now.

“He hasn’t said anything,” the woman commented. His eyes began to adjust to the light. Connor saw a woman with short grey hair, a man with short brown hair, and a dead man.

“Don’t expect him to,” the dead man said. “They cut up his vocal cords.”

Connor touched the bloody bandages around his throat, kindly applied by the teenage girl. A reminder of the damage he had received by those monsters.

“Come on, Connor,” the dead main said, reaching out to him. “We need to leave.”

Connor, reaching out for the dead man’s hand, trembled. He had not moved more than reaching for his food and excreting waste in as many days as he can remember being alone since the third death of the boxcar was taken and Connor was left alone. The dead man remembered his name. The dead man remembered him. The dead man had come back for him.

“I have you,” the dead man said, taking a hold of Connor’s trembling hand and pulling him to the edge of the boxcar, where Connor could get on his feet, wobbly as they may be.

Outside was bright, but dark black smoke filled the blue sky. Who were these two with the dead man? What was happening in Terminus? The dead man kept Connor stable as they made their way through the chaos. Fires had started, blood littered the ground, and the smell of death hung heavy in the air around them. Connor held on to the dead man as they traversed the death camp that was Terminus.

“Take him and get out, Carol and I will find the rest,” the man with short hair told the dead man. “You better be right about him being useful to us, we risked a lot to find him,” he added. It almost sounded like a threat, a threat that Connor did not like being directed towards the dead man.

“He’s worth it, trust me,” the dead man replied as the four split up. The dead man took him to the outskirts of Terminus, beyond the fences and the carnage. The corpses of the dead were attracted to the chaos surrounding Terminus, soon becoming attracted to Connor and the dead man. “Stay here,” the dead man said, leaving Connor to lean on a tree as he pulled a knife out, ignoring the crossbow on his back, and took care of the wondering corpses. Connor did not remember a crossbow. “Walkers will be all over this place,” the dead man said.

Connor nodded, allowing the dead man to pull him back into his previous position of leaning against the dead man. He shouldn’t be here. Connor knew he was dead and gone. This was not Murphy. The dead man didn’t sound like Murphy, didn’t talk like Murphy, and didn’t act like Murphy. Murphy, his dear brother who was always quick to joke, always wearing a smile, ready to brawl anyone who was in his way, and was now dead. He was not this man with him. This man must have been an impersonator. Connor needed to know, though, and put his hand up to the dead man’s hair covering his neck and moved it aside. There was no tattoo. He was not a good impersonator.

“’m not your brother,” said the dead man. “He’s,” a pause, “he’s gone now.”

Connor nodded, sorrowfully, already knowing the true fate of his twin. This did not stop the tears from falling, however.

“I’ll explain everything when we find the rest of my group,” the not-dead man said, pulling Connor along with him as they continued through the brush.  
***  
The group the no-dead man spoke of was finally found. Connor was brought to them by the not-dead man and was greeted with a gun aimed at his face.

“Who’s that?” demanded a young child, no older than fifteen. Someone who should have remained innocent yet was caught up in the hellish world surrounding them. Molded into a hard exterior and willing to kill for their own safety and the safety of their family.

“This is Connor,” the not-dead man introduced. This group consisted of the child toting a gun, an Asian man with a short haired woman, a black woman with a katana, the Carol woman who helped rescue him, the short haired man who also helped rescue him, a red headed buff guy, a guy with a mullet, and two more women, one being Latina. So many new faces, Connor was sure he’d never remember them all, if he was lucky to be around them after this. For all he knows, they’ll kill him now and be done with him.

“Why is he here?” the Asian man asks, clutching his weapon, “Is he part of Terminus?”

“No,” Carol said, quickly, “he was in a boxcar when we found him.”

“But, who are you?” the kid demands, boldly, still keeping his gun aimed at Connor’s face.

“He can’t talk,” the not-dead man tells the child. “I’ll explain everything when we get somewhere safe.”  
***  
Somewhere safe was a church. A tiny little church out in the middle of nowhere, seemingly untouched by the horrors the surrounded it. The pastor, a man by the name of Gabriel, was nice enough to let them in for refuge after some gentle persuasion by members of the group after saving him from some dead who had him trapped up a tree. Connor didn’t miss it, though, there words carved into the side of the church. Something happened here. Something bad. 

A man and a baby met up with the group along the way, too. The baby belonged to the man that helped the not-dead man free him, while the man claimed to be a football player and not a babysitter. He held a smile when he saw Connor. The man seemed friendly, but so did the people of Terminus when he and Murphy first entered.

“Explain,” the man that appeared to be the leader of the group and who helped rescue him, demanded of the not-dead man. “Who is he to you, Daryl?”

“It’s not really who he is to me,” the not-dead man, Daryl, began, “it’s who his brother is.”

“Brother?” asked the Asian man.

Connor flinched at the mention of Murphy, which went fairly unnoticed by a majority of the group as all their attention had been on Daryl.

“When we all got put in our boxcars, I was in one with a guy named Murphy.” Connor listened to the man’s story, hungry for understanding of the fate of his brother. “He wouldn’t shut up at first. Kept going on and on about his twin, Connor, and how he needed to get to him. Fucking mink kept me sane throughout those hellish weeks; told me stories of their time in Boston, the fallout, their journey to the South, and finally their entrapment in Terminus.”

“So, let me get this straight,” Carol began, trying to get a grasp of what he had told them, “you had us save this guy, a stranger, because you felt indebted to his brother?”

“I mean, it’s not just that,” Daryl replied, though not denying her claim. “I thought it’d be a big help to us is we had the last remaining Boston Saint on our side.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” their group leader roared. “You brought a known murderer into the group and expect us to be okay with that?”

Connor shifted his eyes away from the group, feeling the deep burn of their many gazes after the truth of his past was open to their judgments. He could not defend himself, he could not speak, he could not caterwaul to express his sadness, and he could not even scream.

“I thought you of all people would think differently, Rick,” Daryl growled, putting a protective hand in front of Connor, as if to shield his from the harsh words from the group. “The Boston Saints got murderers off the street without having to go through corrupted courts and crooked cops. They saved people, man, or did you forget?”

“Saved people by killing others and taking the role up judge, jury, and executioner with their own hands,” Rick retorted. “You really want me to accept this man into our group? He can’t even speak, Daryl, what about that? Huh? What happens when there are walkers and he can’t even let us know? What happens when one of us gets hurt and he can’t scream for help?”

Instinctively reaching to his bandages, Connor shied away from the group, not wanting any more of their glares and wishing to fall deaf to their criticisms. The feeling of their eyes boring into his soul hurt and was making him anxious. He wanted away from them, but his body was still so weak from the lack of activity and nourishment. He was forced to stay there and take their judging stares and their cruel words.

“Those are filthy,” said a woman, the one with short hair who stayed close to the Asian man. “Let me change those for you and put some clean ones on,” she told Connor.

“Maggie, you heard Rick,” said the Asian man in shock, “he’s a Saint.”

“I have ears, Glenn,” she replied. Her name was Maggie, Connor noted, wanting to remember her name. “I remember hearin’ about them on the news when I was in college. Those two boys were all everyone and their mom could talk about.”

“Then why are you helping him?” asked another one of the men of the group, the football player. 

“I always was in the belief that they were doin’ the Lord’s work,” she stated, causing a few of the group members to gasp. “They were saving people and getting murderers and rapists off of the streets,” she continued. “I will agree that it may not have been the best way, with going beyond the law and handling it themselves, but they were doing what needed to be done or those monsters would have continued to walk the streets.”

Connor mouthed a thank you to her, wanting to let her know her words and gesture to help was appreciated, to which she nodded back with a smile.

“Let’s go over to the light,” she told him, helping him up and taking him to a window so she could doctor him up.

“What do you think we should do, Daryl?” Connor heard the leader ask, struggling to recall his name.

“I’ll take responsibility for him,” Daryl told him.

“I’ll help, too,” Maggie said, as she got some new bandages from the church’s first aid box. “Now, hold still while I remove these,” she told Connor, reaching out to his wrapped neck. 

A sudden wave of fear engulfed Conner and he was back at the chopping block in Terminus. Warm and strong hands held him down as he screamed at the top of his lungs. Cold and sharp blades teased against his skin, pulling even louder screams, curdling the blood of anyone within hearing distance, except for the ones inflicting the torture. They loved his screams so much that they would rather him scream his last with them than ever scream again. The knife pierced his neck again, briefly, causing a thin trail of blood to run down and drip to the floor.

“Scream for us, blondie,” they would taunt. “Let us hear those strong pipes one last time.”

Connor blacked out from the pain. When he awoke, he found himself back in the boxcar with the teenage girl who was kind enough to keep him from bleeding out. He never looked at the scars on his neck, not that he had any way to in the first place.

“They look like gills,” she once heard the teenage girl tell the older woman sharing the boxcar cage with them before they both were brought to the chopping block, never to be seen by Connor again.

“Connor, you need to breathe,” he heard Maggie’s voice bring him back to the present. He heard himself wheezing, barely able to make any sound at all. He was panicking. His lungs felt like they were on fire as he gasped for air. He could feel tears prickle his eyes before they began to spill down his cheeks. His chest rose up and down, rapidly, not letting him keep in air long enough to catch his breath. He was scared, so scared. He didn’t want to go back to those men. He didn’t want to be hurt anymore.

“What happened?” Daryl asked, rushing to his side.

“I don’t know, I moved to take off the cloth and all of a sudden his eyes glazed over and he started panicking.”

“Breathe with me, Connor,” Glenn, the Asian man, told him, trying to help him steady his breathing. 

Connor began taking in breaths and trying to match the steadiness of Glenn’s instructions, finally being able to bring his heart rate down. The tears still flowed freely, causing tear marks to appear, painfully.

“Let’s try this again,” Maggie said, “I’m going to take these off now, okay?”

Connor nodded, grabbing Daryl’s arm for support. The man, who he initially believed to be his brother, was still familiar enough to be able to feel comforting. Even though he only shared his brother’s face, he was not and would never be his Murphy.

Maggie began gently unwrapping Connor’s neck, removing the blood stained cloth and revealing three deep gashes on either sides of his neck that appeared to be healing slowly, as well as large bruises from where he was being held. Maggie gasped at the horror of it, bringing her hand to her mouth in an attempt to hide her shock, causing Connor to wince. He must took horrible, hideous, like a monster. “Glenn, get me the rest of the first aid kit,” she said, “Daryl, I need you to look for a sewing kit.”

Conner expected it to be bad, but he could handle stitches. It was not the worst thing that he, his brother, or dear Rocco had to go through during their Saints days. He’d take a needle over a hot iron any day of the week. Lucky for him, Maggie had a steady hand. After some cleaning of the wounds, stitches, some ointment from the first aid kit, and then a fresh bandage, Connor no longer felt like the possibility of infection would kill him, although he was not out of the woods just yet. These people wanted him alive, at least some of them did. Whoever they were, he decided they couldn’t be all that bad to stick with for the end of times.

The group leader, Rick, Connor remembered, let out a huff of air and walked over. “We can’t leave an injured man, even one who has taken some questionable actions before this shit went down,” he held out his hand, “Welcome to the group, Connor.” Connor accepted his hand and shook it. Gabriel, the pastor, also was welcomed into the group after allowing them to stay in the church for the time being. “Hope you still shoot as good as they say you did,” Rick commented, receiving a smirk from the silent Saint. Last he checked, he was still pretty good. But, that was before Terminus. Things had changed there. Even he and Murphy’s shooting couldn’t have saved them.


	2. Chapter 2

The church stayed a sanctuary for another two days before Pastor Gabriel’s dirty little secret came out thanks to the child’s ability to read and use his damn eyes. Carl, the leader Rick’s son, brought out the questions of why Gabriel was able to survive so long all alone. Needless to say, Rick’s group began to trust Gabriel even less than before. He already gave off an untrusting and kind weird vibe; this only made matters worse for him.

Connor, however, continued his silent healing as his marks began to become less red and irritated. Maggie was able to take out the stitches and Connor now only had to worry about not scratching the itchy marks as they continued to heal. He was also able to remove the wrappings, to which he was grateful for. He wished he could communicate with them, though. He was unable to find any suitable paper to write on, as he refused to tarnish a Bible with his writings. He continued to struggle in an irritated silence until Daryl approached him with a notepad one morning, after he went out hunting.

“Found this in a car,” he explained, handing the pad of paper to Connor, who graciously accepted it. “Got this pen, too,” he pulled out a ballpoint pen and gave it to him. “Thought we could talk a bit.”

Connor nodded, and began writing quickly on the pad.

‘What happened to Murphy?’ he wrote.

Daryl read it and then handed it back to him, letting out a breath. “You’re brother didn’t make it,” he answered, hoping it would be enough for Connor. Daryl didn’t want to remember the horrors he had witnessed during his stay at Terminus. Connor shouldn’t have to hear what happened to his brother.

‘I know, please tell me,’ Connor wrote, his eyes pleading for answers from Daryl. ‘I need to know what happened to him.’

“Do you know what the people of Terminus were doing to the people they took?”

Connor shook his head no. 

Fuck, thought Daryl. “You’re brother,” he began, unsure as to how to say it and letting out a frustrated sigh. “Can we talk outside?”

Connor nodded, not liking where this was going, but feeling he needed to know. He just had to know what happened to his brother. Following Daryl outside, Connor took a seat in the shade under a tree, letting Daryl sit next to him.

“The people of Terminus were rounding people up as cattle,” he said. “Do you understand?”

Connor did, trembling. The people of Terminus always fed him meat. He didn’t question it, never thought to. Don’t look a gift horst in the mouth and all. Connor stood up and walked into the woods, feeling his legs give out as he cried. Daryl followed him, watching over him as he purged his morning’s breakfast from his stomach. His body quivered from the force of it. He barely made a sound as he cried for the loss of his brother and at the knowledge of the true horror they all underwent in Terminus. They had survived hell.  
***  
Connor’s episode passed and he was able to get control over himself, getting back on his feet and writing again.

‘Can you tell me about my brother?’

“What do you mean?” Daryl asked, “You didn’t know him?”

‘No,’ Connor wrote, he’d have scoffed if it didn’t hurt his throat so much. Not that he’d probably be able to make a noise, anyway. ‘I mean, what did he tell you about us?’

“Oh, just the Saint shit,” Daryl said, as if this were casual conversation. “I almost didn’t believe him when he first started talking. He sounded so ridiculous that I thought he had already gone mad. But, then he started telling me about the first raid you guys did and I started to believe it more and more.”

Connor smiled, remembering what a muck of things they had made. That rope was such a bad idea, but he could and would never have admitted anything like that to Murphy. His ego and pride would never let him admit he was wrong about something. His brother would have held it over his head longer than he did them getting caught up in the stupid rope in the first place.

“Why did you guys do it?” Daryl asked. 

‘Our city was being taken advantage of,’ Connor wrote. ‘Wrong doings were going unpunished and innocent people were being hurt. Someone had to do something. The police had their hands tied.’

“When you and your brother were all over the television,” Daryl began, “I used to watch all the time. Always waiting to hear what crazy shit you guys did, always wondering if you would get caught or, hell, if you would end up getting killed.” Merle was hoping for the later, Daryl remembered, hoping it would be in a big shoot out on the tv where he would see it. He didn’t think Connor needed to hear that, though.

‘You wanted us to get caught?’ Connor cocked his head, almost as if he was confused by the possibility that Daryl, the first person to stick up for him in the group, had wanted him to be punished for murder.

Daryl thought back to when the Boston Saints were the only story worth talking about. What were his thoughts on them? Besides his disbelief that they were actually real people, he could only remember thinking about how long their run would last. There was also his brother pointing out that one of him kinda looked like him, well not kinda, he was the spitting image. Nothing about their morality, although he supposed their work had some good to it, as well as some negatives. “Never really thought about it,” he admitted.

‘Do you have brothers or sisters?’ 

“A brother,” Daryl answered. “He’s dead now.”

‘Sorry for bringing it up,’ Connor wrote, looking away guiltily.

“He was an asshole. Always causing trouble and getting into fights,” Daryl said. “Merle was a tough son of a bitch, though. Lost his hand and was able to make it through Atlanta with only a stub till he fashioned a knife at the end of it.”

The look on Connor face was priceless as the blond stared wide eyed, mouth agape, at Daryl.

‘That’s fuckin’ awesome!’

Daryl nodded, trying to keep the memory of his brother’s death out of his mind. Some wounds were still too fresh and probably always would be.

Minutes passed as Connor continued writing questions to Daryl, eventually getting a little tired and leaning his head on Daryl’s shoulder. It was a mistake on Connor’s part as Daryl roughly shoved the Irishman away and stood up.

“Don’t touch me,” he spat, much to Connor’s confusion.

‘What did I do?’ Connor wrote, trying to get Daryl to read it, only to have to pad pushed away. 

“Get away from me,” was Daryl’s only reply as he faced away from the other man.

“You liked it,” Daryl heard Merle whisper in his ear, “Disgusting, Darlyna.”

Daryl grabbed his crossbow and pushed Connor away again. “I’m going out, go back into the church,” he ordered, trying to ignore Merle’s ghost taunting him of a secret he had been working his entire life to hide.

Connor, pride wounded, but still tired from writing, went back into the church, writing to Rick that Daryl went out in the woods.

Rick sighed, but accepted Connor’s note.  
***  
Daryl returned and refused to even look at Connor, even when the blond would ask him via written word what he did wrong. Connor eventually gave up, deciding to stick with Maggie and her husband, Glenn, who Connor has been warming up to and vice versa.

“After some serious thought and planning,” Rick began with an announcement, “we are going to have to move on from the church. It’s not secure enough here and we are running out of food and water sources.”

“How are we going to travel?” someone asked. “Are we just going to walk?”

“Michonne and I have been scouting the area and we have found a few vehicles, one of which is an RV that will fit at least ten of us or more if we squeeze. I managed to get it running and hid it in some brush. Now, there are 17 of us, so we need to figure out how this is going to work. There is one other car that holds five, but it won’t be comfortable,” he tells the group.

The red headed man raises his hand and volunteers to drive one of the cars while Glenn volunteers to drive the RV. Rick then begins to divide people into cars, putting Maggie and Connor in the RV, along with Rick, Carl and Judith, Glenn, Sasha, Bob, Tyreese, Michonne, Gabriel and a woman named Tara. The other car held Abraham, the red head who volunteered to drive, Carol, Eugene, Rosita, and Daryl.

“Well, this will be cozy,” the woman, Rosita, said, eyeing Daryl up and down flirtatiously.

Conner felt something in his gut clench, but he wasn’t able to identify what it was that was making him uneasy or what the feeling even meant. Deciding to ignore it, Connor went to help Maggie pack up the remaining medical supplies.  
***  
The group finally reached the cars Rick promised and loaded up. The RV smelled of mold and had a layer of dust covering everything, but Conner couldn’t complain much over it. Glenn drove with Rick sitting in the passenger seat, leaving him with Maggie, Carl and Judith, Michonne, Gabriel, Tyreese, Sasha, Bob, and Tara. Carl talked to Michonne most of the time while holding the baby Judith, while Pastor Gabriel chose to take a nap, along with Tyreese, Sasha, and Bob. That left Maggie and Tara for Connor to attempt a conversation with. Still with the pad of paper Daryl got him, he sat on the floor next to Maggie, who was sitting next to Tara.

‘Why is Daryl mad?’

“Don’t worry about it,” Maggie said, assuredly, “He is usually a quiet guy with some rough moments. He is a lot more social than he used to be, but he is usually stoic and quiet, always going off to hunt something when he wants to be left alone.”

“I don’t know anyone very well,” Tara admitted. “I’m new to the group, too.”

Connor smiled and gave a friendly, yet awkward wave, as if he were still in grade school; glad to know he wasn’t the only person in the group that had not been there very long, besides Gabriel, that he knew of.

“Can I look at your tattoos?” Tara asked, noticing the VERITAS on his hand.

Connor nodded and let her look at his hand.

“What does it mean?” she asked.

‘Truth,’ he wrote. ‘It is Latin. My brother has AÉQUITAS, which means Justice.’ He then looked at what he wrote, crossing out the ‘has’ for ‘had’.

“I’m sorry about your brother,” Maggie said, getting a nod of sympathy from Tara.

Connor waves them off, writing, ‘The world has gone to shit. People die.’ He then pulled down the collar of his shirt to give Tara a better view of the Mary Magdalene on his neck. ‘My brother had matching tattoos.’ He then pulled up his shirt sleeve to reveal the Celtic cross on his forearm.

“I was always too scared to get a tattoo,” Tara admitted.

This brought a giggle from Maggie, “Me too, I was always worried I wouldn’t like whatever I ended up picking.”

Connor wrote, ‘They can hurt, too.’

“Oh, I bet,” Tara replied. “I can’t even imagine what it felt like on your neck.”

“We should ask Daryl to show us his tattoos,” Maggie said.

“Daryl has tattoos?” Tara asked.

“Yeah, I’ve caught a glimpse of a few.”

Connor thought about that. He wondered what the hunter would put on his body. He also began to feel uneasy about seeing the man’s tattoos. After all, the man shared his brother’s face. Seeing tattoos on his body in places that did not mirror his own felt wrong.

“What’s wrong, Connor?” Maggie asked. Both girls looked at him with concern.

‘Daryl looks like my brother. It will be weird not seeing tattoos that should be on my brother. Seeing tattoos that are not Murphy’s, while wearing his face is disturbing to think about.’

“Really?” Tara asked. “That’s pretty nuts that your brother and Daryl look just alike.”

Connor nodded, reaching into his back pocket to find his most prized possession. It was a small picture of he and Murphy on St. Paddy’s Day at McGinty’s with Rocco. It was before they became the Saints. Things were simpler back then. He smiled at the photo and handed it to Tara and Maggie.

“Holy shit,” Maggie gasped. “They do look just alike.”

“That’s so unreal,” Tara said, then smiling. “You look so happy there,” she told him, handing him back the photo.

“Who is the other guy?” Maggie asked.

‘Rocco,’ Connor wrote, ‘he died when we infiltrated Yakavetta’s headquarters. He was a friend.’

“Damn,” Tara said, quietly.

‘Murphy and I made peace with his death. There was nothing we could have done.’ Connor wrote, a little saddened at the sudden change in conversation. ‘I think I am going to take a nap,’ he wrote to the girls, who nodded in agreement.  
***  
Connor managed to sleep for a good three hours before the RV pulled over. He and the girls decided they needed to stretch their legs while they could. It felt good to get out of the dusty and cramped vehicle. They had stopped at an abandoned gas station. The place was still standing and hadn’t appeared to be broken into, so maybe there was some food inside.

“Daryl,” Rick said, “help me out with this door.” The two men went to the locked entrance of the gas station and began to inspect the lock. 

Connor saw the lock. He had taught himself some basic lock picking before the world decided to end and he felt he could crack as simple a lock as the one keeping them out of the gas station. He just needed a few things.

“We need to find a way to smash the lock without making much noise,” Risk said, inspecting the lock and trying to weigh their options.

“We could shoot it, but that would be too loud,” Daryl commented. “Does anyone know how to lock pick?”

Abraham looked to Eugene. 

“I’d need some supplies,” he informed.

Connor found the screwdriver he was looking for in the RV, as well as a few bobby pins. They were shitty for lock picking, but he could stand a few annoying pricks and slips from them.

“Connor?” Maggie asked as she watched the man walk up to the door, crouch down, and begin working on the lock.

It was not a complex lock, but less simple than he expected. The sun had been beating down on them and Connor mentally cursed the sweat on his hands and fingers as he struggled to keep the tools in his hands without them slipping.

“You can do this?” Rick asked, crouching next to him.

Connor nodded a yes as he continued to feel around with the bobby pin, finally hearing that sweet sound of a click and the unlocking of the door. He turned the screwdriver, opening the door. Murphy had made fun of him when he began teaching himself these things back in Boston. Murphy would probably still laugh at how long it took him. The idea of it made Connor smile a bit. His brother thought the whole thing was ridiculous, even considering their line of work. Connor stood up and opened the door of the gas station, letting rick and Daryl enter, since they were the ones with weapons; Rick had a knife and Daryl had his crossbow.

“Thanks,” Daryl muttered past Connor when he walked passed. That was the first things Daryl had said to Connor since their whole writing disaster, which was days ago, and still was confusing to Connor. The whole situation was frustrating for Connor, especially since he couldn’t get a word out of Daryl regarding what went wrong. What had he done wrong? Not being able to speak and voice his ideas, feelings, and thoughts was extremely frustrating to the formerly loud and foul mouthed social butterfly Connor had previously been.

Rick and Daryl scouted out the front of the store, seeing nothing strange and no signs of life, or death, really. The place seemed untouched, which was worrying. There was no noise to be heard, besides the footsteps and breathing of the two men. Walking to the back rooms, Rick motioned Daryl to go ahead and cover him as he opened the door to the back rooms. Inside was a woman hunched over. She was hovering over a gas station attendant. The guy had been ripped open. Rick made a quick move to stab the woman in the head before the walker realized they were even there. It was a successful operation and the two cleared the building, seeing no other threats.

“It’s safe,” Rick told the rest of the group. They split into two groups, with less than half staying outside to cover the vehicles from any wondering walkers or other humans, and the other scouting the store for anything useful.

Connor felt no need to explore the dusty store, instead feeling his time would be best served guarding the front of the store with Glenn, Maggie, and Rosita. Tyreese, Gabriel, Carl, and Judith stayed in the RV. If only he had a weapon other than his fists, he could have stopped the man who approached Rosita from behind. Connor heard his footsteps just before he was able to turn around to see him grab Rosita from behind and aim a gun at her head.

“Hold up there,” he said. “What do we have here? Don’t you people think you’re a little far from home? How about you give me those car keys and I won’t blow off this pretty girl’s head, huh?”

Connor felt the rush of anger course through his body as he watched the guy lick his lips as he pushed the muzzle of the gun into Rosita’s temple. Rosita stood there, frozen in fear.

“Hey, man,” Glenn said, aiming his gun at the stranger, “we don’t want any trouble, so just let her go.”

“Give me the keys first,” the stranger demanded.

Glenn hesitated, but then reached into his pocket and pulled out the keys to the RV, the biggest blow to their group, short of dying, would be losing the RV.

Fuck, Tyreese and the kids were still there.

“Good,” the stranger said, “now drop your gun and toss me the keys or I paint the concrete with her blood.”

Glenn did as he was told. 

Connor hated this, hated that they were being taken advantage of by this stranger. What the fuck were the others doing in the gas station?

The stranger grabbed the keys and then began jogging to the RV, turning his back from the group for a second or two. It was a fatal flaw on his part as Connor grabbed the gun off the floor and shot the stranger in the head before he even made it to the door of the RV. The stranger dropped to the ground, dead.

“Holy shit,” Glenn cried out.

Tyreese and Carl rushed out, seeing the corpse in front of the RV.

Rick and the others came out of the gas station, armed and ready to shoot. “Connor, put the gun down,” he said, aiming his gun at Connor.

“He just saved us,” Rosita told Rick, “that guy had a gun to my head and was going to steal the RV.”

“I know,” Rick replied, “we saw.”

“Then why are you acting so hostile towards him?” Maggie demanded.

“He just shot a man with a gun that could have easily shot one of you when Connor went to pick up the gun,” Rick said. “It was a risky move.”

“But, we’re fine,” Rosita said, a snarl painting her lips. “It all worked out.”

“Put the gun down, Connor,” Rick commanded.

Connor placed the gun on the floor and turned to face Rick. He was breathing heavily. He had not shot a gun in what felt like years. His imprisonment in Terminus had taken a lot out of him, physically and mentally. He felt little killing the stranger, only anger at his threat on the group. 

“Rick, he saved us and kept the RV from getting stolen,” Glenn reasoned.

“You’re right,” Rick put his gun away. “Connor, walk with me. Bring your pad and pen.”

Connor nodded and followed Rick behind the gas station, feeling like he was being punished.


	3. Chapter 3

Rick brought Connor behind the gas station, sitting on a fallen power line tower a fair distance away from the group.

“I hope you can understand my apprehension to you being in the group,” Rick began. “As a former member of the police department, I had some opinions regarding what you and your brother were doing in Boston.”

‘I expected some push back from your group. I wish to change your opinion of me as I am now, not as I was before. I am no longer a Saint.’

“I will try,” Rick admitted. “I will try to see you as a member of the group. Some of us are already comfortable with you; some of us need some time.” 

‘I understand.’

“Do you?” Rick asked, keeping his voice calm and reasonable. “You just shot a man with expert accuracy in the head. That is a scary aim to face off against.”

‘I’m on your side,’ Connor wrote, confused.

“What if someone decides to do something you don’t agree with or goes against your code you and your brother keep? What would you do if we had to kill a woman that was going to kill one of our own? What if, god forbid, we had to take down a kid before they killed someone?” Rick asked. “Could we trust you to support our decisions?”

Connor considered this possibility, something that could happen today, tomorrow, or even the next day. It was a truth in the reality he had to face and cope with. ‘I would support the decisions of the group that are for the safety and benefit of the group,’ he decided. ‘This group is who I want to stay with. I want to be able to trust you and to be trusted by you.’

“That is something that will have to take time,” Rick replied. “But, I am glad to know that you are going to trust us. I hope, when the time comes, you go through with your claims.”

Connor nodded, writing again. ‘Daryl is upset at me, do you know why?’

Rick read it and then contemplated Connor’s question. “Daryl hasn’t told me anything. I can’t help you with that. Can you think of anything that you did that would piss him off?”

‘I don’t want him to be mad at me when I don’t even know what I did wrong. He won’t even speak to me. He won’t tell me what I did wrong. It’s just...silence and avoidance,’ Connor wrote, frustrated that he wasn’t getting any answers, just more questions.

“Why is it so important to you what he thinks?” Rick asked.

Connor felt this was a test. Why would it not be a problem? Connor wants to make things right with Rick’s group and Daryl is part of the group. But, it’s not just that. Daryl is the only person in Connor’s contact that saw Murphy before his...death. Daryl is the only person who knew his brother and is the only person who can share Connor’s sorrow. That’s why Connor was here, isn’t it? Because Murphy was important enough to Daryl to find Connor? ‘Daryl is part of this group and I don’t want any bad blood between us,’ he settled with. 

“Is that all?”

‘He is also the only person that knew Murphy,’ Connor admitted. ‘That is important to me,’ he concluded.

“Maybe I can convince some of the members to switch vehicles,” Rick said. “Give some of the others a chance to stretch their legs a bit more in the RV. I’m sure Maggie or Tara wouldn’t mind riding in the car.” Rick was really making an effort to help out Connor. Connor appreciated it. Rick wasn’t all that bad of a guy, Connor decided. Even if he didn’t like him for being a Saint.  
***  
“Rick, we got a problem,” Carol said as Rick and Connor walked back to the front of the gas station. There were men there. More strangers with guns holding up the group.

Connor felt his blood boil as he saw that some of the guns were being pointed at the heads of Tara and Maggie. Rick put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him from doing anything foolish.

“Ah, two more have joined,” said one of the strangers, a man with a bald head and a rifle. Unwieldy in a tight spot, but much more useful in an open space, Connor remembered. Unfortunate for his group as the man was in between the RV and the gas pumps, two obstacles he would have to maneuver around.

“We’re just passing through,” Rick reasoned, holding his hands up in defense.

“Well, so are we,” the bald man replied. “We just thought we’d stop by for a little pick up.” He laughed and grabbed Maggie by the hair. “Maybe we will take these chicks with us. Can’t have you guys having all the hot girls.”

Connor felt sick with the implications the man had dare make and felt the anger take over his body. Rick gave him a look when he took a step forward, pushing him back again.

“What’s wrong, little man?” Another stranger asked, mockingly. This one had two front teeth missing. “You don’t like that we have your little friends?” 

“What do you people want?” Glenn demanded, looking furious at the man holding on to Maggie.

“We want your shit, stupid,” screamed a man with long hair.

“We don’t have nothin’,” Rick tried reasoning, “All we have are the clothes on our backs.”

“You shot our friend,” said the bald stranger. “I’m looking at him right there on the ground,” he motioned over to the corpse. “Whoever got him is a good shot. Now tell me, who do I have to thank for taking out that shitty little worm from us?”

Nobody uttered a word.

“Alright,” the man said, moving his gun towards Bob and shooting him in the head. “Let’s try that again.”

Sasha screamed.  
***  
Connor was back in Boston in the shitty apartment he shared with the sleeping Murphy. The sun was rising and Connor was sitting on a stool in front of the window, enjoying the view. He savored these few moments alone. He loved his brother and every moment he spent with his brother, but he also loved the moments of just time with himself, as rare as they were. He smiled as he saw the morning hustle and bustle from his window. People going to and fro, always rushing to get to one place or another; never slowing down to appreciate the time they had to themselves and to enjoy the view of the world that God had gifted them day after day.

Murphy moved in his sleep, unconsciously trying to avoid the rays of light that began peering through the window and onto the twin’s sleeping face. A soft smile painted Connor’s lips as he pull the curtains closed and moved to the small kitchenette they rarely used. He shifted through the bottles of beer in their fridge to find the eggs located in the back. Connor remembered buying them not even a week ago, so they were still in good condition to eat. Maybe he would make breakfast for he and his brother. He was feeling generous.  
***  
Connor looked at the cross on their wall one night. He and Murphy had gotten into another argument. It was about a girl Murphy was seeing, as it had been for the past few arguments. Connor had his reservations on his brother seeing a member of a well known Italian Mafioso familia. Murphy claimed it was only sex, but his brother wouldn’t tell him about her if it was only physical attraction he felt, as he claimed it to be. She was beautiful, Connor would admit. It was no wonder his brother would fall for her. Big brown eyes, wavy brunette hair, and a smile that belonged to an angel. Yeah, his Murph had fallen for this girl. This Italian girl with personal and deep connections to the Italian mob. She was in the family. The same kind of shit they both despised in every way. But, his brother would make the right decision, he would break it off. He had to. After all, it was only a matter of time till the brothers went after her family.  
***  
It was winter in Boston and Connor was freezing his balls off in the snow laden streets. Icy wind blew past the brothers’ faces, cutting their cheeks with its harsh nature as they walked to the entrance of the Trinity Church. They entered God’s house, found some seats in the back, and prayed for the souls of the victims of the most recent attacks in Boston’s streets. The church offered them peace and warmth as the mass reached its end, emptying the room of the Sunday church goers. 

A child walked up to the two as they prayed. “Sweetie, no, they are praying,” the voice of a woman whispered, pulling the twins out of their prayer.

“I wanted to thank them,” said the little girl.

“For what?” asked her mother, staring curiously at the brothers.

“They are helping the city and they are helping all of us,” the child responded simply.

The mother looked at the brothers, really looked at them. “You’re them,” she whispered, realization washing over her face. “Thank you so much,” she told them.

“Um, no need to thank us, ma’am,” Murphy told her, giving her and the child a warm smile.

“You saved my son from falling into bad hands,” she told them. “You saved my family.”

That was the first time Connor felt they were truly doing good with their calling. The Saints of Boston were there for the people, servants of God’s people and believer of His Holy Word. Connor silently thanked God for he and his brother being chosen as the vessels to carry out His Will.  
***  
Rocco fell to the ground and Connor felt the world slow down to a halt. He looked to his brother, seeing him frozen in place as he cried out to their friend, tears streaming down his face, appearing as diamonds on his cheeks. They had lost their friend in their mission for God and God’s Will. At that moment, Connor considered his doubt on their mission. On that day, God’s mission for them was lost with the loss of Rocco’s life. He made sure to not bring up his doubt to Murphy, but he could see the doubt on Murphy’s face. They continued their roles as the Boston Saints as it was the only thing they still had. Their belief in God, though, that was different; it was strained.  
***  
With the fall of civilization and society, along with the rise of the dead, Connor lost nearly all of his beliefs. He had his brother, though, so he was not lost. They still had each other, Connor thought. They’d always have each other. That was what he had believed. He would always have Murph.  
***  
“I lost him,” Connor screamed into the boxcar. He was alone, before the arrival of the child and two women. “I lost him, I lost him, I lost him,” he screamed over and over, as days and weeks had passed. He screamed even when his mouth was dry and voice was cracking, he screamed even when his throat hurt, he screamed even when the men of Terminus pulled him out, he screamed and screamed until he could scream no more as the knife sliced through his vocal cords, leaving him bleeding and crying on the floor. Cursing the men for what they had done to him and mourning the loss of his brother.  
***  
“Connor, that’s enough,” Rick told him, pushing the gun in Connor’s hand downwards, as Connor continued to pull the trigger, the clicking indicating that the clip was already empty and probably had been for a while. Connor looked around him, seeing the group he had come to rely on. They were staring at him in horror.

Connor tried to speak before he remembered he couldn’t. What is wrong? Why were they looking at him like that? What happened? Connor looked down to see the bald man, or what was left of him. Bullet holes covered his chest, along with one in his temple. Looking at his surroundings brought Connor the image of the corpses belonging to the strangers, as well as Bob. Sasha was holding him, crying as his lifeless eyes stared back at her. Glenn was sitting on the ground with a weeping Maggie, holding her close. Tara was shaking and looking at all of the carnage around her. They were safe, Connor thought. The ones he had come to know were safe. They were safe now. He looked around, trying to find Daryl. He found the man’s eyes boring into him. Daryl’s face was nearly unreadable except for the slightest look of disgust, a look Connor had seen more times than he could remember over the course of his life, and even worse, a little sliver of fear.

Connor blacked out.  
***  
“We need to do something about Connor,” said Carol. They were in the RV, deciding where to go, and most importantly, what to do with their resident Saint.

“He saved us,” Maggie replied, still shaken, but ready to defend her new friend.

“He shed the blood of six men out there,” Abraham said. “We need to decide if he’s worth keeping around. What if he pulled that shit on us?”

“He protected us,” Sasha said, in between crying hiccups. “We’d be dead if it wasn’t for him.”

“He’s a murderer,” Abraham declared, raising his voice.

“We’ve all had to do what we needed to for the sake of our group,” Maggie retorted, standing up to the red head. “You’re telling me that you never had to choose your family and friends over someone else’s life?” she challenged.

“Enough,” Rick screamed. “Connor is part of us now, end of discussion.” He walked out of the RV, leaving the rest of the members to tend to themselves. He saw Daryl sitting next to Connor’s unconscious form and kneeled down next to him.

“Lots of screaming up in there,” Daryl said, “as usual.”

“Yeah, well, it’s been a long day.”

“What about him?” Daryl asked, looking down at the mute and checking his wounds to make sure the stress and fall didn’t reopen them. They were still sealed.

“What about him?” Rick countered.

Daryl just glared at him.

“He stays,” Rick said. “He saved us. Besides, I think I trust him.”

“You think?” Daryl asked.

“Yeah, I think,” Rick repeated, eyeing Daryl. “I think Connor could be a big asset to this group; better than him being against us, for sure.”

Daryl scoffed and looked off at the bloodied concrete, where the victims’ bodies of Connor’s rampage had once lain.

“What about you?” Rick asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You brought him here, you are responsible for him. You fought for his inclusion and now what?”

Daryl was silent, refusing to meet Rick’s gaze.

“Connor mentioned you had been distant to the point of ignoring him outright,” Rick said.

“I’d rather not talk about it,” Daryl replied, refusing to look at Rick or Connor. “I’ll clear things up with him when he comes to.”

“Let’s hope so,” Rick said.

“There’s someone else here,” Daryl said, motioning to the shuffling of leaves and branches. A man walked out with his hands in the air, showing a sign of surrender. 

Rick hoped up, as well as Daryl. “Stop right there,” Rick demanded, pointing his gun at the man. Daryl had his crossbow aimed at the man, as well.

“You picked the wrong time to show up, asshole,” Daryl told the man.

“We’ve had a hell of a day,” Rick added. “Now, who are you?”

“My name is Aaron and I swear I’m not with those other guys,” the man said. “I have a gun, let me put it on the ground as a sign of good faith.” 

“Slowly,” Rick told him. “Any movements I don’t like and I shoot you in the head.”

“I understand,” Aaron said. “You have had a bad day.”

“You were watching?” Daryl asked.

The RV door opened and Michonne, Tyreese, and Carol came out.

“What’s happening, who’s this?” Carol asked.

“My name is Aaron and I’m with a community called Alexandria. I had been following you guys in hopes of recruiting you,” he said.

“You’ve been following us?” Tyreese asked.

“I wanted to make sure you were good people and I think you are doing all you can to survive, while also maintaining good values.”

“You were testing us?” Carol asked. “Stalking us?”

“I guess, in a way,” Aaron admitted, a little apologetically. He looked towards Rick, “could we talk?”

Rick lowered his gun.


	4. Chapter 4

“You know, Con,” Murphy began, “America is going to be so cool when we get there. I can’t wait to see the other kids in our class when we start school.”

The twins were still in Ireland, still children.

“We can make so many friends!” Connor had boomed. 

“Not just sheep and stupid ol’ Darius,” Murphy stated, referring to the nearest neighbor they had that was around their age.

“But, ma’s not coming,” Connor murmured, sadly. They were going to America to stay with their da’, a man they hardly knew, except for his letters. He had gone to America to make money so they could eventually go, too. But, their ma didn’t want to leave.

“You boys can go, I’m staying here,” she had told them while peeling potatoes. “The plan to go to America has just turned into a shit show and you’re da’ is stupid enough to stay.”

“What about us?” they had asked her. Their father had written to them, telling them there were ferry tickets waiting for them to go to Boston. The tickets were far cheaper than a plane would be and the trip would be longer, but they couldn’t wait to step foot on American soil.

She turned to them in their tiny little kitchen up on the green hill in the country side of Ireland and told them, “My boys deserve the best education they can get. If it’s better in America, that’s where you’ll be goin’, so you better study hard and make your ma’ proud,” she pinched their cheeks and kissed their foreheads. “You better give your da’ hell for making you wait so long,” she told them, receiving a nod from them, accompanied with twin grins.

The two boys had already mastered their native language of Gaelic, even though a majority of the population only spoke English, save the older generation. Their mom made sure they learned, as well as a handful of other languages, claiming their heritage was just as important as the air they breathed. 

“When are you going to visit us?” Murphy asked her.

“I’ll be able to call the two of you every day,” she told them. 

Connor and Murphy smiled, believing that receiving a call from their beloved ma’‘d is better than anything short of her coming with them.

The day they began their final year of high school, their father disappeared. With no money to get them back to Ireland, or to get their ma’ to Boston, the twins were stuck. Eventually, they left school, spending more time at a job than learning physics or calculus. They needed the money to survive, believing that their extensive wealth of knowledge in languages would be enough to get them by, as well as their general street smarts.

Their ma’ was heartbroken, they both knew it. They refused to let her know they were struggling.  
***  
Connor awoke to the jostling of the moving RV. He was on the floor when he opened his eyes. His head was killing him, wishing he could go back to sleep and ignore the throbbing pain, Connor rolled to his side and curled into himself, trying to fall back to sleep.”  
***  
He awoke maybe another fifteen minutes later.

“Connor,” Maggie said to him, putting her hand on his shoulder and shaking him a bit.

Connor opened his eyes and looked at her, confused as to why she was waking him up.

“We made it,” she told him, “you need to get up.”

Connor sat up, searching for his pad and pen.

“Here,” Maggie said, handing them both to him. He looked around and realized they were the only two left in the RV.

‘What happened?’ Connor wrote.

Maggie read his message and just looked at him. He did something, he knew, something that was bad. 

‘What did I do?’ Connor asked, desperately needing to know.

Maggie began to tear up, pulling Connor into a hug. “You saved us, Connor,” she cried, “You saved us.”

Connor deeply wished it was true as he clutched the woman, crying as well. He didn’t want to bring harm to this group.  
***  
Maggie and Connor cried to what felt like hours until Glenn walked into the RV. In reality, it had only been minutes. 

“I came to get you,” he said. “We didn’t know what was taking you two so long.”

“Sorry, babe, we’ll be out in a minute,” Maggie told her husband, pulling away from Connor. “He wanted to know what happened,” she said.

“Oh,” Glenn replied, sounding empty and hollow. 

“He saved us, Glenn,” Maggie told him, as if she was reminding him of that.

“I know,” Glenn said, looking to Connor. “You saved my wife, thank you.” Glenn then patted Connor on the back and led him and Maggie out of the RV. “Let’s go eat.”

Connor stepped his foot off the steps of the RV and into a suburban neighborhood. A gated fence surrounded the area, Connor noted. Where were they?  
***  
Alexandria had set up a welcome meal to the survivors. Connor was greeted by many members of the community. They were nice; they were also naive to the reality they were living in. They were living as if nothing had happened on the outside. As if the only thing that had changed was that they could no longer leave their precious neighborhood. Food and entertainment was a constant. There was no need to worry about what one may need tomorrow when it was here today. How foolish, he thought. 

“Connor,” Rick called out.

Connor turned to face him. Rick was sitting at a table next to Daryl. Daryl sat silently as Rick motioned for him to sit with them. A plate of food was waiting for him, along with an empty chair. Connor accepted their offer and sat next to Rick, writing a thank you on his pad.  
***  
Alexandria and its residents had treated the group with much respect and kindness, even giving them places to stay for the night. There were empty houses along the streets of the beautiful Alexandria. It felt nearly unreal after the long nights spent in abandoned cars, rundown sheds, and if he and Murphy were lucky, a stable with hand locks. Lucky for the twins, the South had a plentiful supply of farms, abandoned and empty. Connor was placed in a house with Daryl, much to Daryl displeasure. He never told Connor outright, but he could tell. He still wouldn’t talk to him much, but Rick made sure they stayed in the house together. Rick was helping Connor out with trying to clear the air with Daryl and Connor truly appreciated the efforts, hoping they would bring fourth results.

‘Daryl, please talk to me?’ Connor wrote, handing the pad to Daryl. The two were alone in their new house and Connor was itching to speak with Daryl. Daryl was sitting on the couch in the furnished home, complete with two mattresses, one in each bed room. They were given lanterns to use once the sun had set.

Daryl huffed and then looked at Connor, “Fine,” he said, patting the couch next to him for Connor to sit.

Connor accepted the invitation, gladly, and sat next to Daryl.

“What do you want?” he asked.

‘Why were you ignoring me?’

“Was thinking about some stuff,” Daryl replied, stiffly.

Connor looked at Daryl, trying to understand. ‘Was it bad stuff?’ he asked, cautiously handing the pad to Daryl, looking for any type of reaction.

Daryl read the question, set the pad down, and then put his head in his hands. They sat like that in silence for a long time. Then, Connor began to watch Daryl cry. Not knowing what to do, Connor gave an experimental touch to Daryl’s back. Besides the slight flinch upon contact, there was nothing to indicate Daryl wanted him to stop, so Connor rubbed his back, trying to comfort him. Tears fell past Daryl’s hands and onto his pants. Connor pulled the man up and into a hug. Daryl gave some resistance, but eventually relaxed into it.

After a few minutes, Daryl pulled away and spoke. “Your brother kept me sane in that boxcar. I wouldn’t be here without him.” He took in a breath and then let it out slowly. “My brother was nothing like yours,” he continued. “Merle was hard and rough inside and out. He let you know what he thought and fought anyone who thought otherwise. He was such an angry person in general. He took a lot of it out on me. Said it was payback for taking all the shit dad gave when we were little. We didn’t come from a good family.”

Connor listened to Daryl talk about his brother, realizing that family was something completely different to Daryl. Especially sibling relationships.

“Your brother talked a lot about you in the boxcar,” he said, wiping his face with his sleeve.

Connor remembered him mentioning it before. ‘What did he say?’ he wrote, ‘besides all the Saint stuff.’

“He told me that you had a big problem with some chick he was seeing.” Daryl kind of chuckled at that.

‘She was Mafioso,’ he wrote, ‘that was a big problem for us.’

“I bet,” Daryl remarked. “He said he felt like there was something you were hiding from him.”

Connor was a bit shocked that Murphy told a stranger these things, but when you’re on the verge of death and insanity, a stranger can seem like an old friend when you have no one else.

“He asked me if I ever talked to my brother about relationships. I didn’t talk to Merle about a lot of shit, especially not relationships. That would have opened up a can of worms that were better off never being mentioned, let alone talked about.”

‘My brother knew everything about me,’ Connor said.

“You sure about that?” Daryl asked. “Did you know everything about him?”

Connor bit his lip, wondering if he should share something that was so insignificant, when considering the grand scheme of things.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Daryl told him. “That is something between you and your brother.”

‘Something I will never get to talk to him about,’ Connor wrote, feeling his chest get heavy.

“You’re Catholic, you could pray to him,” Daryl suggested.

‘I don’t pray anymore,’ he admitted. ‘I’m lost.’

“In this world, I don’t blame you,” Daryl said, leaning back on the couch and propping his feet up on the coffee table.

‘I stopped when Rocco died,’ Connor wrote, ‘seeing it made me question what I was doing and what for. I continued my work as a Saint, though. It was all I had left besides Murphy.’

“What do you have now?” Daryl asked, looking at Connor.

Connor considered Daryl’s question. ‘I have this group,’ he decided. ‘I thought I had my brother back when you opened that boxcar door,’ Connor admitted. ‘You look like Murphy.’

“You’re ugly brother and I look nothing alike,’ Daryl claimed, snickering.

Connor smiled, silently laughing a bit. ‘That sounds like something he would say.’ Connor’s laughing turned into weeping as he began to shudder from the tears. Connor cried when he knew his brother was gone back in the boxcar. He thought it would be over, but the loss of his brother had still hit him hard at just the remembrance of it.

“Come here, Connor, said Daryl, pulling Connor into his arms and holding him to his chest. “Let it all out,” he told him, lightly patting his back.

Connor cried into Daryl’s filthy shirt, not caring about how either of them smelt or how the situation looked. He didn’t care because at this moment, he had Daryl there for him and that was all that mattered. Connor pulled back from Daryl’s embrace when he was able to catch his breath and regain his composure. He then pulled out the pen and pad. ‘There was one thing I never told Murphy,’ he wrote.

Daryl read the note and then waited for Connor to continue.

Connor took in a deep breath and let it out slowly before writing. ‘It was hard to hide in the beginning,’ Connor began. ‘I realized it when I was a teenager still. My bother always talked about girls, but I just never felt the appeal of women. There was nothing there for me to feel any attraction towards. I could look at a woman and see her physical features as attractive but feel no attraction to her. Then, I would feel differently about men,’ Connor wrote, keeping Daryl from seeing what he was writing before he was finished. ‘How was I supposed to tell my own brother, my own twin, that I wasn’t interested in women? We were raised Catholic. That is not something that I was allowed to feel. I felt wrong, defective, and disgusting. It wasn’t until we worked with the cops on one job. When we were taking out Yakavetta, we met this one FBI agent. He was strong and fierce. He dealt shit as good as he received it, not taking no for an answer. He was different than anyone I had met before then because he wasn’t scared to be who he was. I wanted to be as brave as he was when it came to my own identity. I never got to tell Murphy.’ Connor hesitantly gave the pad to Daryl.

Daryl took a while to read Connor’s frantic handwriting and then put the pad down when he was done.

Connor looked at him, wishing he would say something and simultaneously wishing him to never speak again. He felt the fear and nervousness well up in his chest and constrict to a near painful level. He felt like he was a teenager again, realizing himself for the first time and terrified that anyone would find out.

Finally, Daryl looked up at Connor and patted him on the back. “It’s the end of the world, you can be whoever you want to be,” he then got up with the lantern and went to his room, leaving Connor alone in the dark.  
***  
The gay clubs in Boston were not very friendly on the outside, only slightly better the farther you entered. There was always a risk of getting attacked by an angry passerby with a homophobic slur thrown in. Trash littered the streets in this part of town, giving the mayor a whole other headache to deal with when the community was not begging and pleading for safer conditions and cops that actually gave a shit about a gay man or woman walking to work or walking home without having to deal with threats against their life. Fear ruled their conscious day in and day out. It was a horrible way to live for anyone. This was a life Connor did not want and refused to enter so he never spoke up and never frequented The Smokehouse, Pillars, or Jerry Dime’s; notorious tolerant bars and gay clubs. 

It was pure chance that brought the brothers to Pillars. They were tracking the whereabouts of a notorious sex trafficker in the city and followed a lead to the seedy gay club. Murphy made no comment on the life style of the club goers, only interested in making their hit and getting out before the cops eventually showed up, which would be fairly easy as no Boston boy in blue made it their priority to investigate any crime at a gay establishment. Connor, however, was curious about the club. Trying to not let his brother in on to his curiosity, Connor would side eye the posters on the wall and the open doors in the employee section of the club, where the kitchen, offices, and supply rooms there. That was also where the backrooms for VIP guests were locate, the exact location a high profile sex trafficker would frequent.

“How do we get in?” Murphy asked, seeing the locked door their lead on the sex trafficker’s location claimed he’d be.

Connor opened up the back pack he was carrying, pulling out a lock picking kit, “I’ve got this, brother,” he smirked, excited to finally use the lock picking kit he had been practicing with.

“Con, really?” He asked, snickering at his brother’s ridiculous attempts at lock picking, a skill he claimed would make their lives easier. “We could just shoot the lock,” he reasoned. “It would be much faster.”

“But, this is so much cooler,” Connor insisted, “Like in the spy movies.”

“You watch too many of those.” A clicking noise was heard as Connor unlocked the door, smiling at Murphy. “Whatever,” Murphy moaned, “let’s just get this over with already.”

The assassination went off relatively smoothly. The disgusting pig had been killed by the twins and another stain on Boston’s soul had been scrubbed away with two bullets. The only problem was the dancer that was in the room with the sex trafficker, a young man that was bloodied when they kicked the door open, guns drawn. The sick pig had taken a liking to beating him bloody before having him against his will, alive or not. Lucky, or unlucky, for the dancer, he was still alive. But, he was also a witness and a liability. 

“Fuck,” yelled Murphy, seeing that the dancer was there. They were not willing to kill an innocent man, even if he had seen their faces, but this was going to be risky.

“Did you see anything?” Connor demanded, feeling the heavy weight in his heart as he saw the dancer’s broken nose and bruised body. 

The dancer shook his head, no. Tears ran down his face, washing away some of the blood. “I saw nothing, señor,” he pleaded, “nothing, no, nothing.”

Connor let out a sigh of relief, looking at Murphy, who was silently watching his brother handle the situation. Kneeling down to the injured man on the floor, Connor stared him in the eye. “Do you know who we are?”

The man nodded.

“Then you know that we are here to help, yes?”

Another nod.

“Say nothing and we won’t come after you.”

“Yes, señor,” the man replied. “Thank you, thank you!”

Connor gave the man a small smile and the twins fled the building, taking to the streets of the rough neighborhood.

They slowed down, hiding in a deserted ally. “What the fuck, Con?” asked Murphy. “Can we trust that guy?”

“We’ll have to,” Connor responded. There was nothing gained by turning them in, he believed. 

Nothing ever came of the shooting at the club. There wasn’t even a mention of it in the news days after it happened. It was like Boston didn’t care, or chose not to draw attention to it. One thing was for sure, though. Connor decided there was no way in hell he would ever act on his desires. The pit of deviancy and sin that was Pillars told Connor all he needed to know about his feelings towards other men; it was wrong.


	5. Chapter 5

“Wake up, Connor,” said Murphy.

Connor rolled over in his bed, not wanting to get up. 

“Come on, get up,” Murphy continued, shaking him a bit.

Connor opened his mouth to tell Murphy to fuck off, but no words came. He opened his eyes, seeing Daryl standing over him, not Murphy.

“We’re going out scavenging with Aaron,” he told him.

Connor simply looked at Daryl, confused.

“The guy that recruited our group,” he explained with a roll of his eyes, annoyance clear in his gruff voice.  
***  
The two met Aaron outside of the house. He had three canteens full of water and three backpacks with him. “These are for you two,” he said, handing them each a canteen and a backpack.

Daryl and Connor wordlessly accepted the items. Daryl had his crossbow and Connor was given a handgun, as well as Aaron, from Alexandria’s armory, and a hunting knife for each. 

“Not much for talking, I see,” Aaron commented, not receiving a word from Daryl, who pushed passed in order to get to the car they would be taking into town for a supply run.  
***  
The three men drove through the country side, in silence till Aaron spoke up.” Do you really think it is a good idea to bring Connor along?” He looked back at Connor, “No offense. It’s just that you’re mute. What if you see something or have to warn us about something?”

Connor, sitting in the back seat, looked over to Daryl, who was in the front passenger.

“Connor’s a good shot,” Daryl explained, quickly and quietly. “We’ll be fine.”

Connor may be a good shot, but that wouldn’t stop a surprise attack or a herd from getting them. Connor couldn’t verbally communicate, making him a horrible candidate for supply runs. Why was he even here?

“What if we’re not?” Aaron asked, skeptically.

“I’ll watch Connor,” Daryl reasoned.  
***  
The nearby welcome sign greeted the three as they parked the car and disguised it a bit with some shrubbery and fallen tree branches.

“Now it looks rotted and abandoned,” Aaron said.

“Let’s hope it stays there,” Daryl commented as the three men made their way into the town.

Dead polluted the streets of the town they were looting. Slow and dumb, yet deadly and relentless corpses wandered to and fro, ignoring the three men until they got too close.

“Be careful,” Aaron told them as they all pulled out their knives, luring the dead, one by one, and ending them.

“Connor, we’re taking this building,” Daryl instructed, pointing to the insurance building. 

Connor read the name of the company and looked back, nodding.

“Why there?” Aaron asked.

“Nobody else would think of raiding it, there is bound to be something there,” Daryl replied, leading the way with Connor and leaving Aaron outside, who had no choice other than to agree with the man’s plan.

The insurance company ended up holding three walkers and two cases of water bottles. Daryl and Connor ran the cases back to the hidden car and placed them in the trunk. They continued like that for the rest of the morning and into the afternoon. Daryl and Connor took a building together, while Aaron fared by himself with keeping a lookout for other raiders and groups of walkers. Their luck seemed otherworldly until a larger group of walkers appeared. Connor and Daryl were in an attorney’s office, scavenging the last of the secretary’s snack stash and the whiskey selection of whoever was the big shot lawyer. 

Aaron ran into the office. “We’re leaving,” he told the two, “a large group of walkers are approaching.”

Daryl and Connor stuffed all the food into the bags first, taking as much booze as they could fit secondly.

“Let’s go,” Aaron told them and led them back to the car.  
***  
Connor sat in the back of the car and gazed out the window. His first supply run had been a success, he should be happy. Why did he feel nothing? They were bringing back much needed water and even some luxury goods like alcohol and snack food. They were coming back safe and unscathed. Connor couldn’t feel the need to care. He just felt empty.  
***  
The trio returned to Alexandria. Connor still felt distant, not wanting to socialize with the group. He wanted to go back to his room in the house he shared with Daryl. He just wanted to be alone.

“Hey, Connor,” Maggie called out, waving him over when he was carrying their loot to the food storage.

Connor forced a smile, feeling guilty that he had to force one in the first place towards his friend, and then motioned to the water case he was carrying. 

“Oh, I’ll see you later, then,” she smiled, understanding that he was busy.

He nodded and then promptly made his way to the food storage to drop off all his shit.  
***  
Connor shut the bedroom door and laid down on the mattress, staring at the ceiling. He felt empty. There was no happiness, no sadness, only an emptiness that should have bothered him more than it did. Connor felt himself drift in and out of consciousness the longer he lay there. What was he even doing there? He wasn’t much help to anyone. He may as well have been a pack mule for the supplies they had gathered. Daryl had been the one to scout out the buildings and choose which ones to search, while Aaron had been helpful in keeping watch over them. He had just followed Daryl, silent as he always will be. If something were to have happened, there would be no shout of warning from Connor. There would be no notification of an attack. There would only be silence. Connor rubbed his fingers over the healing gashes in his neck. The scar tissue had already begun to form, permanently branding Connor as damaged. He hated it.  
***  
“Connor?” Daryl called out later that night. He had a plate of food for his mute roommate from the group. Maggie had made it for him. Silence followed Daryl’s voice as he entered the house. Connor had disappeared after they had returned from the supply run, which was hours ago. Not seeing him in the ground floor living room or kitchen, Daryl moved upstairs to see if he was in his bedroom. He knocked, stupidly forgetting that Connor wouldn’t reply even if he wanted to and decided to just open the door, Connor’s personal space be damned. Daryl saw Connor sitting on the mattress, staring at the wall, and moving his lips as if he was speaking. “Connor?” Daryl asked again. 

This snapped Connor out of whatever trance he was in and the man jumped, as if he didn’t realize Daryl was even there. 

“I brought you food,” he began, holding up the plate. 

Connor nodded and got up to take the plate out of Daryl’s hand. He smiled as a thank you for the meal, sitting back on his mattress and eating.

Daryl sighed and sat next to Connor, who somewhat ignored him, favoring the food in his hands. “Were you in here the whole time we’ve been back?” Daryl asked.

Connor slowed to a stop, staring hesitantly at Daryl, and then nodding a yes.

“Maggie has been worried,” Daryl told him, standing up. “She made you that plate and asked me to bring it to you, so make sure you thank her properly next time you see her.”

Connor nodded, watching Daryl walk out of the room. Food was what he needed to get his mind off the emptiness.  
***  
Daryl walked out of the little house he shared with Connor. Should he be worried about Connor? He was acting a little strange. He would ask the man about it later. Right now he was going to talk to Aaron, as the man requested. 

He was told to meet him at the house he shared with his partner; a member of Alexandria Daryl had not yet met named Eric. Daryl walked up the stairs of their home and knocked on the door. He only waited a few seconds before the door opened, greeting Daryl to a smiling Aaron. Aaron had seemed to taken a liking to Daryl as he personally requested Daryl go on the scavenging mission with him, as well as to visit him and meet his partner.

“Daryl, thank you for coming,” Aaron greeted, leading him inside.

“You asked me to and I had nothing else to do,” Daryl replied, walking into the house that appeared nearly identical to the one he shared with Connor, except for a vast amount of decorations and personalized tasted, compared to he and Connor’s empty little house.

“I’d like to introduce you to my partner,” Aaron insisted, leading him into the living room where a man was sitting on their couch. He had a smile on his face as he stood up to shake Daryl’s hand.

“Eric, nice to meet you Daryl,” the man greeted.

Daryl said nothing as he shook the man’s hand, only nodding in response.

“Daryl is one of the guys that went scavenging with me,” Aaron explained. “He and the other guy, Connor, made a great team. They found a lot of water while I kept watch.”

“Thank you for keeping my partner safe out there,” Eric said.

“Well, Aaron was to thank for getting us back,” Daryl told him, honestly. “He kept watch for herds and other survivors.”

They continued exchanging pleasantries until the topic of Connor was brought up again.

“Connor is an interesting person,” Aaron began. “How did your group run into him?”

“It’s a long story,” Daryl told him.

“We have all the time in the world,” Eric commented, good naturedly.

“If you are willing to indulge us,” Aaron added.

Daryl considered their offer, before agreeing. “Sure,” he said.

Eric and Aaron made themselves comfortable as Daryl began.

“Connor has a brother named Murphy,” he started. “They are twins from Boston and they are Irish as fuck, or at least Murphy is. Was,” he corrected. “We met Connor in Terminus, a fucked up community that captured our group and the twins. We were placed in boxcars and separated from each other. Murphy and I were in one boxcar, Connor was in another.”

“How horrible,” Eric said, hiding his agape mouth with his hand.

Daryl continued, “We were there for what felt like months, but in actuality, was probably only a few weeks. It was hard to keep track. Murphy and Connor were there longer, but I’m not sure how much longer, Murphy could never give me a clear answer. I’m not sure he even knew. Murphy got pulled out one day. He fought back, kicking in screaming. It’s just how he was. He was a fighter and he didn’t take anything lying down, especially when his brother was involved,” Daryl explained. “He told me all about Connor and their time in Boston. When they pulled him out, they pulled out another person from across the field we were in. I heard his screams. If I think back to that moment, I can hear them just as clearly as I did when it happened. It was another man, screaming for his brother. Connor could speak back then. It was the first time I ever heard his voice. They pulled me out, too, telling me that they wanted an audience. They also wanted to hammer in how fucked we all were. There was no chance of escape from that hell pit. They took us both into a warehouse, me up top and Murphy on the bottom floor. Connor was there, but he was so out of it from the lack of food and water, I don’t even think he noticed I was there.”

Eric shook his head in disgust at Daryl’s story, grabbing Aaron’s hand, who tried to comfort his partner.

“That was when Connor lost his voice,” Daryl said. 

“What about Murphy?” asked Aaron, feeling disturbed by the story.

“He,” Daryl trailed off, looking down. “Terminus was a group of cannibals,” he said, hoping that was enough to explain the horror he had witnessed. “Connor was unconscious by the time they got to Murphy. He didn’t see anything.”

“How did you all escape?” Eric asked, quietly.

“Carol infiltrated the camp and freed us all,” Daryl said. “I made sure to get Connor out of there during the chaos. I just couldn’t leave him there.”

“Does Connor know what happened?” Aaron asked.

“About Murphy?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah. ”

There was a pregnant pause.  
***  
“Get your filthy hands off of him!” Connor screamed, watching helplessly as his brother was drug into the warehouse by the Terminus men.

“Connor!” Murphy screamed, trying to get out of the men’s’ iron like grips on his shoulders and arms, keeping him from running to his brother.

“A touching reunion,” a man commented, walking into the room with a knife in hand. “Too bad it has to come to an end so soon.” He sauntered up to Connor, ignoring the looks of hate and disgust from the brothers, or perhaps reveling in them, and grabbed Connor by the chin. “You know, it is a real shame I got to cut you up. You could have been a beautiful voice in my bed. But, it gets pretty old after a few hours,” he said, patting Connor on the cheek. 

“Don’t you touch him,” threatened Murphy, but he was ignored by the man.

Connor spat at the man, hitting him in the eye.

“Piece of shit,” he exclaimed, backhanding Connor. The force almost knocked him out of the hold of the men restraining him. The pain caused Connor to cry out. “Scream all you want. It’ll be your last chance,” the man said.  
***  
The memory had been a painful one, something he wished he could forget if not for the fact that it was the last time he saw Murphy. He initially clutched to the memory, telling himself that Murphy was still alive when he had been returned to the boxcar. It wasn’t until he began receiving food again was any hope crushed by the words of the cruel monster that took his voice and Murphy’s life. He only regretted that he could have been the one to take the life out of the man’s cruel eyes, but all of the members of Terminus were eliminated by Rick’s group. But, the past was the past. Connor could not change the atrocities that were committed; he could no longer fear the past.


	6. Chapter 6

“We’re both outsiders,” Aaron said, walking with Daryl back to the house he was sharing with Connor. “That’s one thing we have in common.”

“What are you talking about?” Daryl asked as he kicked a stone out of the path.

“You and I,” Aaron began, “we are not really a part of the world the others live in. We never did. I can tell.”

“You don’t know me and you don’t know what you’re talking about,” Daryl told him, walking faster, away from Aaron.

“I know lost when I see it,” Aaron said, louder. The others were already in their houses. It had gotten dark as Daryl talked with Aaron and Eric about this and that after the story of Terminus and Connor, mostly their position in Alexandria and their purpose. Eric had also been a scavenger for the community, as well, until he was injured.

Daryl slowed to a stop, refusing to turn to Aaron. “I’m not lost,” he told him, “not anymore.”

Aaron was silent for a moment. Daryl was about to continue walking before he spoke up again. “You can talk to me, Daryl. I’d never judge and I’ll always listen.”

“Why do you care?” Daryl asked, still keeping his back to Aaron. “You don’t know me.”

“I care because I can’t watch another person live as I once did,” Aaron admitted. “I look at you and I see the person I used to be.” He sighed. “Daryl, can we talk inside?”

Daryl turned around, dumbfounded at what Aaron was saying. “Sure,” he replied, unable to say anything else as he tried to ignore the tense feeling encompassing his body.  
***  
Inside of the house, Daryl escorted Aaron to the small couch in the living room and lit the lamp that was given to them, providing a small amount of light for the two to continue their discussion.

“Talk,” Daryl demanded.

“You’re obviously an outsider to the group, even before you all made it to Alexandria. Tell me, am I right?” Aaron asked, looking confident in the darkness of the room.

“Fuck you,” Daryl grumbled.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Aaron decided. “How did you join the group?” 

Daryl felt like not answering, pissed off that some near stranger could read him so easily. But...maybe he should talk. What was the harm in it? He could feel better, maybe.

“Talking is for women, Daryl,” mocked a voice. Merle haunted him, still. It wasn’t fair! “Feelings and boohoo cry baby shit, is that what you have resorted to, Darleena? Are you a pussy now that I’m dead? Huh?!” the voice screamed. Daryl kept a strong and straight face, refusing to give into his brother’s ghost.

“I had a brother,” Daryl said, ignoring the ghost and rebelling against its claims.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Merle spat before dissipating into nothing. 

“Merle,” Daryl continued. “He was a tough son of a bitch and I hated him for it. But, I still loved him. He was my brother, after all.”

“You never loved me!” Merle screamed in his ear, dissipating again.

“Merle and I were traveling to Atlanta when shit went down. We found the group on the outskirts. Atlanta was a bust, so we stayed with the group. They set up near a quarry. Leader at the time was a cop named Shane, but he’s dead now. Fucker went nuts when we hunkered down at a farm,” Daryl said, ignoring the harmful words from the ghost.

“Should have robbed them when we had the chance,” Merle muttered, standing in the corner of the room. Daryl tried to ignore him.

“What happened to him?” Aaron asked.

Daryl felt a chill run through his body.

“Tell him,” Merle growled.

“He was shot,” Daryl said.

“Tell him!” Merle screamed.

“He had already turned when I found him,” Daryl cried, realizing that tears were falling from his eyes as he looked down to see what the wetness was hitting his hands.

“That’s right,” Merle said. He seemed off. Not mad, just...sad, perhaps.

“You couldn’t have done anything,” Aaron said, trying to console Daryl. 

“I could have been there,” Daryl insisted, “I could have saved him from that monster.” Tears burned his eyes.

 

“Baby brother,” Merle said near his ear, “you gotta survive without me. That man had already made his choice when he shot me and left me.” He wasn’t mad. Why wasn’t he mad?

“I don’t want to,” Daryl choked out through tears.

“What don’t you want?” Aaron asked, concern taking over as he scooted next to Daryl and placed hands on his shoulder and back in an attempt to comfort him.

“I don’t want to live without him,” Daryl cried, wiping the endless flow of tears from his eyes. “I can’t.”

“You can,” Aaron insisted, “you have to.”

“My brother always protected me,” Daryl said, “Merle protected me when we were little. I love my brother and I let him die.”

“You can protect yourself now, baby brother,” Merle said, softly. “Dad and mom are gone. They can’t get you and neither can The Governor.”

The sound of a door opening and closing upstairs caused Aaron looked up, as well as the ghost. Connor stood at the top of the staircase, looking down at Daryl before running down the stairs to check on him.

“Shit, Connor,” Daryl said, realizing the man was there. He didn’t want to show him this weakness. 

Connor looked to Aaron, silently asking for an explanation with pleading eyes.

“Looks like you’ve got people here, little brother,” Merle said, almost affectionately. “You don’t need me here.”

Daryl shook his head, not wanting the phantom to leave, but Merle faded away, leaving Daryl for what may be the last time.

Daryl screamed.  
***  
Connor brought his pad and pen downstairs after Daryl calmed down enough to be taken to bed. He wanted to know what had happened to his friend.

“Sorry if we woke you,” Aaron said to Connor. It was just the two of them now.

‘I wasn’t asleep,’ Connor wrote, ‘just thinking.’

Aaron nodded, but said nothing. It had been a long night.

‘What happened?’

“Daryl has a lot of demons,” Aaron said. “He bottles things up till they explode.”

Connor nodded in understanding, wishing he could do something for Daryl. They both had something in common now, Connor realized. They had both lost their brother to monsters playing human. There was also commonality between Connor and Aaron, Connor realized. ‘You have a partner, right?’

“What do you mean?” Aaron asked, suspiciously. Connor was more difficult for the man to read. His non-verbal cues were all over the place, from energetic and playful one minute to sullen and mysterious the next.

Connor didn’t reply immediately. He was trying to figure out how he should word what he wanted to ask. ‘I guess I need advice,’ he settled on, not necessarily knowing if that was what he wanted to ask.

Aaron looked at what Connor wrote. “Oh,” he replied, slightly relieved he wouldn’t have to defend his lifestyle to another bigoted prick.

Connor couldn’t will his hands to move, though. He couldn’t get them to pick up the pen and write what he wanted to ask. He desperately needed to be told that it was okay and that he was not wrong. He needed to know that his feelings were okay, but he felt a lot of fear. An all encasing and binding fear that stopped him. He didn’t really know this man other than he was a scavenger for Alexandria, he had a partner, and he was in their house, helping Daryl. Helping Daryl. Daryl didn’t need Connor, hell, he probably didn’t even want Connor. Just felt a sense of obligation from Murphy, but he didn’t need Connor to be there. He didn’t need him to exist or to burden him with Connor’s short comings. With Connor’s damages. 

Connor felt a hand fold over his clenched and shaking ones. It was Aaron. He had a smile on his face, a small one that said everything would be okay; a smile that Connor desperately needed.

“I knew I was gay when I saw The Breakfast Club for the first time,” Aaron laughed. “I saw Judd Nelson and I just knew.”

Connor smiled at the admission, feeling himself calm down, glad that Aaron understood what he needed to say. 

“I met Eric, my partner, before the dead decided to start walking,” he told Connor. “The day I met him was horrible. I had just lost my job and was about to sell my parent’s home after they passed in order to just stay afloat. I was walking into my usual Chinese take-out restaurant of choice when I bumped into a stranger while I was looking at the menu. Eric introduced himself and we ended up eating there, just talking. We exchanged numbers from there and the rest is history,” Aaron said.

‘How did you finally accept who you are?’ Connor asked.

“I’d be lying if I said it was easy,” Aaron told him. “I decided to come out to my parents in high school and they reacted badly. My mother cried while my dad walked out, only to return days later, still drunk. My mother wouldn’t speak to me for months,” he said. “She eventually opened up to me, telling me she had done a lot of soul searching and finally realized that nothing had changed. I was still Aaron, her son. My relationship with my dad took a lot longer to mend. He didn’t want anything to do with me for years. He finally called me when I was about to graduate college. He told me he was proud of me and wanted to go to my graduation.” Aaron’s face fell. “They died on the way there.”

‘I never told my brother,’ Connor wrote.

“Fear keeps us from expressing who we are,” Aaron said.

Connor nodded and yawned. It was starting to get late.

“What stopped you?” Aaron asked.

‘We were twins,’ Connor wrote, ‘he was my other half. I didn’t want to change how he saw me.’

“It’s a hard decision to make,” Aaron admitted. “Have you told anyone? Besides me?”

‘Daryl knows.’

“Did you choose to tell him?”

‘Yes.’

“Why Daryl and not your brother?”

Connor pulled out the picture of him with his brother and Rocco, showing Aaron, who gladly accepted it, looking at it with the lantern light.

“Holy shit,” he gasped, immediately seeing the resemblance. 

Connor was getting ready to hear the whole Daryl looking like Murphy spiel.

“You’re the MacManus twins,” he realized.

Oh. Yeah. Connor sunk down in the couch cushions, trying to disappear.  
***  
Eric waited for his partner as long as he could before he decided to drag his ass to bed if he had to. He had known were Daryl was staying, as he was one of the people who helped furnish the houses for their new members. The houses were a dream, Eric always believed. They would be great to start a family in. If only the world hadn’t fallen apart. 

Eric walked up the stairs of the little white house, seeing the light of a lantern through the window. He opened the door, not bothering to knock, to find his partner and another man sitting on the couch who looked a bit uncomfortable. “I thought I’d come get you,” Eric said. “Nice to meet you, I’m Eric.” He reached out to shake the man’s hand. He couldn’t remember if Daryl was sharing a place with anybody, or where the man even was as he was not in the room with them.

The man with his partner stood up and shook his hand, silently.

“This is Connor,” Aaron told him.

“Connor,” Eric cheerfully greeted, “do you live with Daryl?”

Connor nodded. He must be shy or something, Eric thought.

“Connor’s mute, babe,” Aaron told him.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry,” Eric said, embarrassed by not realizing it sooner. “I really made an ass out of myself.”

Connor pulled out a pad of paper and began writing. ‘Don’t worry about it,’ it said.

“Where is Daryl?” Eric asked, still embarrassed by his mistake.

“Asleep, probably,” Aaron said. “Which is what we should be doing,” he smiled walking up to Eric, kissing him on the tip of his nose. “Good night, Connor” he said, turning to the man, who smiled back in return. “It was nice talking with you. We should do it more.”

Connor nodded, smile fading as he began to close himself off, opposed to the more open nature he presented when greeting Eric. Something had happened between his partner and Connor. Eric didn’t think he would like finding out, but he sure did plan on asking about it when they got home.  
***  
“Alright, talk,” Eric told his partner after they got home.

“About what?” Aaron asked, taking his clothes off for bed.

“Something happened tonight and it involves that Connor guy and maybe Daryl.”

“We talked,” he said, “That’s it.”

“Then why did Connor look so uncomfortable?”

“Some conversations can be uncomfortable.”

“You’re hiding something,” Eric told him.

“Nothing that concerns you, dear,” Aaron assured.

“Who is Connor?” Eric asked. “Who is Daryl? Huh? Why have you taken such an interest in them?”

“Daryl is a kindred spirit,” Aaron replied, ignoring his partner’s sudden waves of jealousy. “When I look at him, I see myself.”

“What about Connor?”

“Connor came to me asking for advice.” 

“On what?” Eric asked, curiously.

“It’s not my place to say,” Aaron replied. “Just know everything is fine.”

“Nothing I should worry about regarding our new neighbors?” Eric asked, suspiciously. “Nothing I should know about?”

“The world is anew, Eric. Who they were before doesn’t matter,” Aaron told him, getting into bed. “Now get over here so I can cuddle you.”

Eric couldn’t help the smile, still feeling a bit uneasy about Connor and Daryl, mainly Connor. There was something about him that felt unsettlingly familiar. “Scoot over,” he said, joining the love of his life in their bed.

“Yes sir!” 

Eric would trust him, would always trust him.


	7. Chapter 7

Connor woke up from the sun light peaking through his window. He felt good. There were no lingering memories of his time in Terminus, nor any horrible nightmares. He was able to get something off his chest last night. Sure, he told Daryl, but he still felt like an “other” and not a person. Aaron had gone through the same fears he had felt and he was able to push past them. He showed Connor it was possible. Connor could confront these feelings and learn to accept them. He didn’t want to hide from himself anymore. He didn’t want to feel like and “other.”  
***  
Daryl rolled over and opened his eyes. They still burned. Tear marks were probably staining his face. Dirt was still clinging to him, so he probably looked like a sorrowful woman with mascara running down his face after a rough breakup. He began to recall the events of last night. Merle’s phantom was gone. Merle was gone. He had to accept that. Then, the realization hit him like a truck; Daryl was free.   
***  
Connor stretched his arms and legs, enjoying the feeling before rolling out of bed and grabbing some clothes that didn’t smell too horrid and slipping them on. His muscle mass was beginning to drop, but at least he still looked in shape. He didn’t want to get lazy just because walkers were slow moving and Alexandria was luxury compared to what he used to have. He still had humans to worry about.

Connor remembered Daryl bringing him food yesterday. Maybe he could make it out and back with some breakfast before Daryl got up. The man deserved a break after last night. He also wanted to thank him for bringing his dinner, even if Maggie asked him to.  
***  
His eyes burned, but Daryl could still see clear enough. He looked out the bedroom window, seeing Connor walk out of the house with his pen and pad and towards the food supply building. Food sounded good, but he could stand to lie in bed a few more minutes. He still needed to clear his head and people wouldn’t help.  
***  
‘Two plates, please,’ Connor wrote, showing the woman serving breakfast. 

“One for someone else?” she asked.

‘Yes, he is still asleep,’ Connor wrote, with a smile on his face.

“Oh?” asked the woman. She gave him a little sly smile. “Can’t let your boy starve now,” she laughed, serving up two plates.

Connor blushed at her comment. Daryl wasn’t his boy.

The woman noticed his blush. “I’m sure he will really appreciate this. Breakfast in bed is pretty romantic,” she added, “especially at the end of the world.”

‘He is not my boyfriend,’ Connor wrote.

“Who needs labels?” she waved off.

Connor was about to write something else to tell her Daryl was not even gay, at least he didn’t think so, but they were for sure not together. However, he didn’t get the chance before she had given him two plates of eggs and fresh baked bread and sent him on his way. He tried to let her know he was thankful for the plates by smiling and nodding, hoping it came across.  
***  
Life without rules, life without social norms, and life without structure; that was the life Daryl was in. It was still a life with fear, though. Different fears, but still fears. He used to fear his mother and father; both abusive in their own ways. He used to fear his brother; abusive and demeaning, just like their parents. But, Merle still loved him, Daryl knew it. He used to fear affection, or perhaps he still did. He had no purpose, he had no self-worth, and he had no reason to be loved by anyone. All he was good for was killing.

That was why he pushed so many away from him.  
***  
Connor returned to their little house, feeling good about getting Daryl breakfast. He wanted to show the man he was thankful for everything he has done for him. Without Daryl, Connor would have died in Terminus. He began walking up the stairs and towards Daryl’s room.  
***  
There was a knocking at Daryl’s door, snapping him out of his thoughts. It was light, almost like it didn’t want to be heard, but still existed. 

Daryl slipped out of bed and grabbed the knife on his bedside table, getting in a crouched attack position to defend himself if he needed to. He watched as the door slowly opened, revealing a happy looking Connor with two plates of food in his hands.

Connor, right, Daryl remembered. He went to get food. Must have thought Daryl would want some, too, which he was totally right about. “Sorry,” Daryl said, seeing Connor’s shocked expression wipe away the happy smile he wore a second before.

Connor put both plates on Daryl’s bed and pulled out the pen and pad. ‘I didn’t mean to wake you, I just wanted to bring you breakfast.’

“I was already awake. I saw you leave earlier, I just didn’t think about you returning when I heard the knock, which was really soft and pointless if I was asleep,” Daryl pointed out, picking up his plate and beginning to eat it. He patted the spot on the bed next to him for Connor to join, which he did, picking up his plate and eating next to Daryl.

It was nice sitting with Connor, Daryl decided.  
***  
Connor felt about a million different things as he sat next to Daryl. On one hand, it felt really nice to sit in a bed and eat breakfast. But, there was also the shock that lingered from when he opened up the door to find Daryl holding a knife and ready to attack. He also felt the embarrassment that came when he thought about what the woman had implied between Connor and Daryl that morning. As if Daryl would even go for him.

Heat prickled up Connor’s neck at the idea of going for Daryl. Was that weird? Hell, he looked like his brother at a glance. That’s pretty fucked up, right?

“Something wrong?” Daryl asked.

Connor snapped his head to look at him, realizing he had stopped eating and was staring at Connor’s neck. It must have been red.

“You’re neck is all red,” Daryl commented, confirming Connor’s suspicions and reaching out to check his temperature. It was oddly nice of Daryl to be concerned. “You’re a little warm, did something happen?”

Connor put down his plate two write, ‘Just thinking about something.’

“Did something happen when you went out?”

‘No! Just thinking about the conversation I had with the person at the food supply.’

“Is someone giving you trouble?” Daryl asked, looking visibly annoyed at the thought as his eyes narrowed and his mouth curled a bit.

‘Nothing like that,’ Connor insisted, flustered, fumbling with his pen.

“What did they say?” Daryl asked.

‘It’s embarrassing,’ Connor wrote, hoping the subject would be dropped. He had said too much.

“Well, now I got to know,” Daryl said, a small and amused smile playing on his lip as he watched Connor get more and more red, now realizing Connor had not been insulted by one of the Alexandrian residents.

Connor shook his head, frantically, standing up and grabbing his now empty plate.

“Leaving so soon?” Daryl asked with a chuckle.

Connor nodded and quickly walked out the door. The crimson blush stained his face as he left.  
***  
Daryl smiled to himself after Connor left. It felt good to smile and laugh. Havin’ gotten breakfast, Daryl realized how much brighter his mood has become. He still felt like shit, but at least he wasn’t hungry. Alexandria may be living in its own little fantasy bubble, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try to enjoy it till it inevitably burst. Which would happen, that was a given. He also enjoyed talking with Connor, even if he hit some sort of trigger causing the man to get overly embarrassed and flustered. It was cute, really. Cute. Huh. Connor was cute, wasn’t he. It wasn’t a question to Daryl. It was a statement. It was a fact. He knew he thought Connor was cute. He thought Connor was cute. Huh... These were unsettling thoughts, thoughts that needed to be squashed.  
***  
That was so damn embarrassing, Connor thought, running his hands through his oily hair. Fuck, he also needed to bathe. Alexandria had running water, but it was scarcely used, for obvious reasons, so he had to find the nearest watering hole. Damn it all. Damn the heat for causing him to sweat so much. Damn the glands on his scalp for producing so much oil, making him look undoubtedly disgusting. Damn whatever virus, or curse, or infection, or whatever that is causing the dead to come back as disgusting and ravenous cannibalistic monsters. Damn that woman for putting ideas in Connor’s head. Mostly, damn Daryl for making Connor think about those too-fresh words when he was just trying to be nice and just trying to show Daryl that he wanted to be his friend. His face felt as hot as the sun beating on his skin, if not hotter, and he just knew that it was as carmine as lipstick. What was he even doing with these thoughts? Nothing would come of them except for his continued pain and suffering as they always brought him. He needed to quell these feelings as soon as possible.  
***  
“Connor, over here,” Maggie yelled, waving at Connor after the man returned from the lake the locals were using to bathe in. He felt refreshed and his head felt a bit clearer. He waved back, walking over to her to see she was gardening. 

Connor knelt down beside her and began pulling weeds out of the flower beds.

“I’m going to start a little garden. I found some seeds, so now we can grow a little bit of fresh vegetables and maybe some fruits, too. I’d be nice to be able to care for something that’s not being attacked by walkers 24/7,” she joked, but also completely serious.

Connor nodded and pulled out his pad and pen. ‘Where did you find them? Maybe there is some more hiding at the house with Daryl.’ Now that Connor thought about it, there was a backyard with a shed. Maybe he should look into it. 

“There were a few packets of seeds in the kitchen drawers, but I think there may be more hiding around the house. Maybe in a storage room or closet,” Maggie told him.

‘What are these ones?’ Connor asked, pointing to the bag next to Maggie’s foot.

“Tomatoes,” Maggie grinned. 

Connor grinned back, helping her clean out the garden patch.  
***  
Hunting and tracking helped Daryl clear his mind of the feelings he had felt earlier that morning. He was tracking a doe, possibly one with a fawn, which was not something that would stop Daryl from making a kill. The size of the tracks indicated multiple deer in the area and the tracks were fresh from the soft dirt covering the surrounding fields and woods.

Walkers were wandering the woods, too, but were too stupid to sense Daryl before he was able to silently eliminate them. It was unfortunate that their pungent scent polluted the air. It probably warded off some of the wildlife, but the deer seemed to still be in the area. He was hoping to bring back a doe, as a buck was not traveling with the small group he was tracking.

The sound of leaves being crushed and sticks being snapped echoed through the woods as a group of three does and two fawns grazed. Bringing up his crossbow and steadying the shot, Daryl aimed at one of the largest of the three. His bolt pierced the doe’s lungs, dropping it to the ground and causing the rest to disperse as quickly as the bolt left the crossbow. 

There was no pain for the doe, only an instant of confusion. Daryl hoped that was how he would go out; as quickly as the doe had. 

Daryl removed the bolt, cleaned it off, and returned it to his quiver. The doe was heavy, but that was a good thing for Alexandria. He could carry the doe back after he cleaned out what he could here, only taking about thirty minutes. Thirty minutes of single mindedness that Daryl had to keep up. Anything to keep his mind off of Connor. 

Fuck.

Fuck.

FUCK.

Connor lived with him. He would have to think of him. He was screwed, absolutely screwed. 

Stupid Connor and his stupid face and his stupid way of doing things for Daryl and stupidly being concerned with Daryl being upset. Fucking fuck!

He liked Connor. 

His dad was right when he would drunkenly beat him during his childhood. Of course the old man was right.

Fuck.

His brother was right when he would make assumptions and tease him.

But, it was only Connor, right? He only had feelings for Connor?  
***  
Connor and Maggie finally finished pulling out all the weeds from the tilled dirt Maggie had previously prepared. Apparently she had been preparing the garden since the group had been placed in the houses.

“Thanks a lot, Connor,” Maggie told him. “I’m going to start preparing to sow seeds later, if you want to join. I’m goin’ to get out of the sun for a bit, first.”

Connor nodded, yes, getting a smile from Maggie.

“Great,” she grinned. “I’ll find you when I start.”  
***  
Daryl had made it back to the gates of Alexandria. One of the members of Alexandria let him in, shocked to see him carrying the doe and covered in the leaking blood from the creature. He just wanted to carve up the doe, separate the meat, and then ignore any thoughts of or relating to Connor and his undeniable attraction to the blond mute man.

He was disgusted with himself. Homosexuality was...was what? For guys that were weak? Was Aaron weak? He managed to survive out in the wilds by himself, scouting out Rick’s group and deciding if they should be brought into Alexandria. He also could handle a blade when scavenging. Daryl didn’t doubt that Aaron could use a gun if he needed to, as well. His partner, Eric, he seemed like a well to do guy. Maybe not as strong as Aaron, but he had lasted this long. Was Connor weak? The man took out a handful of men by himself, and that was only recently. Before the world even ended, Connor and his brother were tearing through mobsters with the cops on their tail. Was Daryl weak? He could survive in the wilds, he could hold his own against some walkers, and if he had to, he could fight another human. He would kill them if he had to; he had killed when he had to. He wasn’t weak, he decided. Maybe he was strong, even. Was being gay wrong? It didn’t seem wrong in the grand scheme of things. It didn’t kill people from simply being. It didn’t cause the dead to walk again. It surely didn’t make Daryl hate Aaron or Eric, in fact, it didn’t even seem like a factor in deciding if he trusted or liked the couple. It sure didn’t stop him from liking Connor. Was it really that important, even? Why was he even disgusted with himself?

Daryl carried the doe’s body to a place where he could skin her and take care of the waste. 

“Daryl?” Rick called out.

Daryl turned to see the former cop walking towards him.

“Where were you?” he asked.

“Hunting,” Daryl replied, simply.

“Obviously,” he said. “You didn’t tell anyone.”

“You my babysitter?” Daryl asked.

Rick chose to ignore the remark, instead kneeling down and pulling out his knife. “Need any help?”

“No, but you can if you want,” Daryl told him, tired from the journey and the self loathing disposition raging in his mind.

Rick stayed silent, assisting Daryl in cleaning the doe.  
***  
Connor didn’t know what to do with the rest of his day after he was done assisting Maggie. Daryl was nowhere to be found, earlier he went to Rick to see if he had seen him. Risk told him he hadn’t and then walked off to patrol. So, now he was just wondering around the Alexandrian outskirts. He was still within the walls, just in the area that didn’t have as many people. It was quiet. Connor walked over to the tree that was alone in the small field, lying down and closing his eyes to relax a bit. Gardening was hard work, he realized. Something he never did in the city, but he faintly recalled working on the farm with his ma’ and brother. That was back in Ireland. It felt like a lifetime ago. Almost didn’t even feel real. He decided not to think too hard on it, though, he didn’t want to revisit painful memories while living in the painful now.  
***  
Connor awoke to the sound of metal being warped. He opened his eyes to see someone climbing over the wall. I was one of the Alexandria members from before they appeared, the young girl. He didn’t blame her for wanting to get away every once and a while. Dangerous as it may be, the end of the world didn’t stop one from feeling trapped. Deciding to ignore the revelation that one of the town’s youngsters was leaving the guarded walls and venturing out on her own, he got up from his spot under the tree and went out to continue his search for his quiet, and often times moody, housemate.  
***  
Daryl and Rick had finished with the deer. The bones and waste had been removed, leaving only the meat to be dealt with.

“Where do we take this?” Daryl asked.

“I’ll take care of it,” Rick told him, looking around their carving station for something to put the meat in. “Thanks, Daryl,” Rick told him, smiling genuinely at the man. “We can always count on you to help with survival needs as basic as eating.”

Daryl merely nodded, looking down to hide the small smile threatening to expose how good it felt to be told he was needed. 

Gathering the meat on a large platter, Rick hoisted up the gift from the forest and gave Daryl one last thank you before leaving for whoever was the person in charge of rationing food.

Being told he was worth something, especially as significant as a provider of food in a dire straits situation, felt good, amazing really. All his life, he had never felt needed, let alone wanted, until he had met Rick. Sure, he was in the group before Rick came, but he never felt like he actually mattered. He never felt like the group was his or that he was a part of it before, only there, existing. Daryl had changed from the empty shell he used to be. It was because of Rick’s faith I him, Carol’s concern for him, and now Connor’s connection to him. He had never imagined he would have anyone in his life that gave a damn besides Merle, as rare as it was. It wasn’t even just the three. He felt the care and concern from the others. This group was his family.  
***  
Connor had found Daryl after a quick three minute walk through the town, finding him sitting on a bench lining the street. He plopped down next to him, pulling out his pen and pad. 

“Don’t,” Daryl said, taking the pad of paper out of his hand before Connor could write down anything. “Let’s just sit here and enjoy the silence.”

Connor studied Daryl’s face, looking for any sort of hint as to what the man was thinking. Finding nothing but a stoic stare forward, Connor decided to oblige the man’s request. He leaned back against the bench and stared in front of him. Squirrels ran across the ground, searching for a quick meal and fighting the others that managed to snatch one. The tiny creatures ran across a yard and up a tree, one trying to escape the others while the rest tried to claim the acorn as their own. Connor smiled sadly. The world has become take and take. There were no longer people willing to help a fallen man as there used to be. It is a dangerous world now. The people of Alexandria were kind in ways that he did not think possible in the new world. Honestly, they were foolish and naive. It was going to get them all killed if they continue on this way. Connor could only hope that Rick’s influence was enough to convince the leader of the small settlement that they needed to adapt.

While Connor was lost in thought, Daryl had moved to put his arm around his back. Realizing that there was a sudden weight on him, Connor looked at the hand resting on part of the bench. Daryl’s arm rested mostly on the bench with a small bit touching Connor, who didn’t feel like he minded all that much. He looked to Daryl to see the man continuing to watch the squirrels. However, there was a slight redness to his cheeks that was not there earlier.

“More comfortable this way,” Daryl told him, as if to justify himself for his perfectly normal action.

Connor nodded, accepting the feeling of the man’s arm rubbing against his back. The feeling was nice, he discovered. Connor looked back to the squirrels, seeing that they had fled into the hidden branches of the trees, unable to be easily spotted. He instead looked towards the sky, seeing clouds up above. They were heavy with rain water and just waiting to burst. Some rain would do the community some good. They haven’t had any rain in what seemed like years, probably only amounting to maybe a month and a half, which was still a long dry spell. Connor looked over, shyly, towards Daryl, seeing the man’s eyes closed. His face was relaxed and he looked peacefully calm. Connor, daringly brave and stupid according to his twin, leaned his head against Daryl, jumping a little when the man instantly put his arm around Connor’s shoulder and held him there. The feeling was comforting, careful, and quick. Nearly as soon as it began, it ended with Daryl standing up, which caused Connor to be pushed off, as he looked up towards the rain clouds.

“It’s about to rain, we should head inside.” He said, not even looking at Connor before moving towards their shared home.

Connor looked down at the clenched hands in his lap, feeling more confused that he did before. There was a clutched feeling in his chest. This was what rejection felt like, he thought and stood up. It was the same feeling he had back at the church, when Daryl cut himself off. He remembered to grab the pen and pad placed on the ground and felt the beginning of the rain fall on his hands and face.


	8. Chapter 8

Daryl sat in the bedroom, looking out his window at the falling water tumble onto the street in front of the house and cover the land in much needed nourishment. The rain fell heavy and cold, finally cooling down the Georgian countryside from the blazing heat that had been tearing down the group. Connor had not returned to the house and Daryl had not looked back to see if he would follow. He had taken a risk in putting his arm around the man. A risk he was not willing to continue after Connor leaned into him. The man must have been tired to do that. There was no way he would have wanted to seek out comfort from Daryl. A man like Connor was worthy of a partner as considerate and caring as he himself was, not someone like Daryl who was emotionally stunted and rough. Letting himself grow closer to Connor would only bring him heartbreak when the inevitable moment of Connor rejecting his feelings came. Connor wanted to be his friend, not a lover, right?

Daryl got up from his bed by the window and went downstairs. There was a bottle of scotch stashed away that he had found on their run. He needed a drink.  
***  
Connor went to the food storage. He had slept through lunch with his nap by the tree. Instead of food, though, he found a whiskey bottle, barely touched. He was not the type to turn away a beautiful opportunity such as this. He was in the need of a good drink to help numb the pain in his chest. Taking the bottle, he continued through the rain till he found a gazebo. He had wondered how he missed it, realizing it was close to his house he shared with Daryl. No matter, there was plenty of time to think about things after he got drunk enough to forget his last name. Sitting on the bench and removing the pen and pad that poked him in his back pocket, Connor began practicing the art of drinking to forget. He wanted to forget a lot of things, he realized. He wanted to forget the happiness that he used to feel when he would drink with his buddies at McGinty’s or when he would bring some liquor home with him and Murph for some much needed relaxing after a hard day at the meat factory or after a hard hit. He wanted to forget the still lingering loss of Rocco. He thought making peace with it would stop the pain, but it never did. He wanted to forget the ever present reminder that his brother was gone. He wanted to forget every single moment he had spent captive in Terminus. He also wanted to forget the pain that had formed in his heart from the rejection he had felt from Daryl, the one who had saved him. Daryl, the man that he was slowly realizing he may just like a little more than just a friend.

Connor let a tear run down his face. How had things gotten to this point? He answered that with a swig of whiskey, letting the burn of it take away all the pain and all the fear he had been holding on to. Tonight was the night he would allow himself to feel the feelings if only to burn them away. More tears came, along with more whiskey. Connor silently cried for the fear he had felt. He silently cried for the loss he had experienced. He had cried for all the souls he had not been able to keep safe and for all the people he had let down. He had also cried for the forming relationship between him and Daryl that was still so fragile and new. The pain was not going away, so Connor drank some more. The liquid ran down his throat and into his belly, warming him as he sat in the gazebo, cold from the rain water coating him like a blanket. He drank more to feel the warmth begin inside until it enveloped him, causing his tear stained cheeks to turn flushed red from the effects the alcohol had given. More and more was drunk, warming him, comforting him, making him forget, and still there was not enough. Connor went for another drink, realizing that the bottle was empty, as it had been empty the last three times he had tried to drink from it. Setting the bottle down, he felt heavy. He wanted to feel the blankets of the bed he had been using cover his body. Standing shakily, he managed to remember the pen and pad that he had received from Daryl. He placed them back in his butt pocket and began stumbling his way through the rain towards the house.  
***  
Daryl was seven glasses into his bottle of scotch. It was the most expensive bottle he had even tasted, which wasn’t saying much as he usually drank the cheapest thing he could afford. But, this stuff actually tasted good. It was smooth and left a burn that felt good in the back of Daryl’s throat as he continued to drink more and more of it till he became unable to think straight.

As Daryl was pouring his eighth glass, the front door opened, letting Connor’s ragged and wet form come into view. The man smelled as drunk as Daryl felt, his cheeks were red, and his eyes were a matching shade and puffy. Daryl could see Connor had been crying, but the man’s big smile when he saw Daryl and the scotch would have never given any indication if not for the puffiness of his eyes. Connor opened his mouth and began mouthing words as if he was speaking, but there was only the sound of strangled breath and the rain pouring outside. Connor closed his mouth, putting his hand up to his throat before waving it off as if it were nothing, walking up to Daryl and hugging him. 

Slightly shocked, but lacking the muscle control from the numbing drunkenness he had felt from the booze, Daryl had just sat there, unable to do anything about the soaking wet, yet warm, man that was touching him. It felt good. Connor felt good. Sitting there with Connor’s wet torso on him, hugging him and silently speaking to him through broken vocal cords, Daryl suddenly found the ability to move his arms. He lifted his arms up, wrapping them around the drenched man.

“You’re wet, Connor,” he said.

Connor pulled back from the hug. His face was wet from tears as he sadly smiled and nodded, agreeing that he was, in fact, wet as Daryl had said.

“Let’s get you into something dry,” Daryl told him, shakily standing and grabbing Connor’s hand to lead him upstairs and to his room. The sound of the rain was louder within the smaller room, but Daryl found it pretty calming. They didn’t have a lot of clothes, but they had a few different outfits to mix and match.

After pulling out some clothes, Daryl waited for Connor to undress. Realizing what he was doing, Daryl turned around, flustered and so very drunk, making himself dizzy. Losing his balance, he fell onto the soft carpet with a thud. He rolled onto his back and saw that Connor was shirtless and concerned as he looked down onto the fallen Daryl. Connor smiled and laid on the floor next to him, still wet from the hips down. Daryl’s red face felt impossibly hot as he turned into his side, facing Connor. The mute man’s face held an amused smile with cheeks nearly as red as his own. Daryl began to laugh at his own drunkenness and the drunkenness of his friend, being cut off by Connor’s cold and chapped lips touching his own. The sound of the rain continued outside, calm and consistent, not at all matching the wild emotions Daryl was feeling. He froze, letting Connor run a hand through Daryl’s long and greasy hair as the man kept his lips against his equally chapped lips. 

Connor pulled way, keeping his hand in Daryl’s hair. His eyes searched Daryl’s face for a reaction, an answer, anything, really. 

Daryl answered with a drunken smile, placing a kiss against Connor’s lips, and touching Connor’s heated cheek. He will deal with the consequences tomorrow, Daryl thought to himself, for now he will enjoy it.  
***  
“You gotta accept yourself as you are,” Smecker told him. “You can’t hide from the world.”

“What about my brother?” Connor asked.

“What about him? He’s your brother, he’ll still be your brother after.”

“I’m scared,” Connor admitted.

Paul Smecker, a member of the FBI and a man completely comfortable with his own sexuality, put an arm around Connor. “There are things that are a part of yourself that you can’t change, Connor. No matter how hard you try.”

“Did you try?” Connor asked, nervously fidgeting with his hands.

“Oh, course I did,” he replied. “Those were the worst years of my life. I was depressed, I hated myself, and most of all, I was absolutely terrified of anyone finding out the truth.” Smecker took a sip of his coffee. “But, you know what? One day, someone did find out. It was someone I liked. Turned out, they had a thing for me, too. They ended up telling their friend, who was understanding and far more tolerant that anyone had been at the time. But, things went fine. Nothing had changed. I was still me and they were still them.”

“What happened next?”

“We dated a bit,” he said with a sigh, “then I joined the academy and we drifted apart. But, I decided that I felt happiest when I was being honest with myself. Fuck anyone who thought anything otherwise, because I could care less.”

“I wish I was as brave as you,” Connor admitted, quietly.

“You’ll get there, kid,” Smecker told him. “You gotta start with baby steps, sometimes. You can start with telling your brother.”

Connor didn’t take Smecker’s advice and it felt like one of the biggest mistakes he had ever made.  
***  
Connor woke up to the sound of birds chirping. What should have been a pleasant sound felt like a jack hammer going off on his skull. He was on the ground and being held by Daryl, who was still asleep. The same Daryl that he had kissed in his drunken state of recklessness and who had kissed him back before they both passed out on Connor’s soft and carpeted floor. 

Attempting to let out a moan of pain, only to be greeted with silence, Connor slowly sat up and let the pain of last night’s choices roll over him in layers. He didn’t eat anything for lunch or dinner, which had been a mistake. He felt horribly nauseous and barely managed to get up in order to puke in the bathroom between him and Daryl’s room and then washed his mouth out with some water from their reserve. He hadn’t drunk this much in nearly ten years, not since Rocco, well...

Daryl let out a throaty moan of pain and annoyance, cutting off Connor’s thoughts as he crawled his way back into his room to see the man holding his head and sitting up against the wall. “My fucking head,” he said, looking up to see Connor. 

Connor nodded, trying to communicate that he had also been suffering from a hangover.

“No more drinking for a while,” Daryl continued, leaning back as Connor crawled up closer to him before sitting next to him.

Connor wanted what happened last night to not just end as a drunken mistake. He wanted whatever this was between them to become more. He leaned up to Daryl’s face, connecting their lips as he had done last night. He pulled away quickly, though, nervously.

Daryl said nothing, only leaning against Connor’s shoulder as the two sat next to each other.

Connor let out a sigh of relief, realizing he was not being rejected. Looking over to see Daryl, he saw that the man’s face was red, as if he was still drunk. I did that, Connor realized. I put that blush on his face. A warm smile spread over Connor’s features as he moved his arms around Daryl, pulling the man closer to him, ignoring the fact that he was still shirtless. Things would be okay, he hoped.   
***  
Rick watched as the two men walked down the stairs of their shared place, noticing the small smiles Connor was sending towards Daryl, who was trying to hide his own smiled.

“I guess things between them are improving,” Maggie said, walking up next to their leader.

“More than just improving,” Rick said.

“From the looks on their faces, it seems like they are getting along just fine,” she laughed.

“Let’s see how well they can manage on their next run,” Rick said. “We’re going to need a whole lot more than just food with you expecting.”

“Yeah,” she replied, placing a hand over her stomach.

“Glenn has been looking completely overjoyed,” he laughed, “just wait till the baby comes. Sleepless nights are in both of your futures.”

Maggie chuckled, “Thanks for the fortune telling. Now I know who to ask for a baby sitter.”

“I better be getting god father status out of this,” Rick laughed.

“I’ll bring it up to Glenn,” she smiled.  
***  
Michonne spied Daryl walking up to the food storage with Connor in tow. She noticed the missing bottle of whiskey right away that morning and by the look of the two, she had a few ideas of where it went. Real shame, she had been eyeing that bottle for days. Wasn’t her brand of choice, but who could be picky nowadays? 

“Michonne, could you help me unpack these bags?” asked one of the Alexandrians, a woman who often was managing the stock of food. 

“Sure,” she said, turning to the woman who was hunched over and digging through a nap sack, one of six from the most recent scouting trip the community had partaken in. She didn’t feel like Rick’s group had officially integrated into Alexandria, yet. It was more like they were sharing space with these ignorant people who still believed in Sunday brunches and neighborhood fun runs. Some of the people here were more aware than others; some still had a chance to survive if something were to happen as early as today. Unfortunate, really; Michonne liked some of the people she had met here.

Daryl and Connor walked into the store house, looking around for something to eat, presumably. Both would probably be parched from their apparent night of drinking, much to Michonne’s quiet jealousy. 

She grabbed a bottle of water from a bag and tossed it at Daryl’s head, who managed to catch it while also jumping back from being caught off guard. “You both look like you need it,” she told him, tossing a bottle to Connor, too. She didn’t know Connor well. She obviously knew of his exploits as a Saint with his deceased brother, but she didn’t know the man behind the title. Daryl trusted him, though, and so did Rick, which was good enough for her.

Connor graciously accepted the water from Michonne, opening the bottle immediately and taking a healthy few gulps before giving her a toothy grin as thanks. 

“Could’ve just handed it to me,” Daryl told her, drinking the water as well. 

“Now where’s the fun in that?”

The Alexandrian woman merely watched the members of Rick’s little group joke around, muttering to herself about how she will just put up the supplies herself.  
***  
Connor liked Michonne, he decided. She was quiet, like himself and Daryl, although he would have preferred to be loud; any volume, really, any volume that wasn’t mute. He missed the sound of his voice, as selfish as that sounded. He missed hearing his own Irish accent in his words and in his ears. He loved the sound of his own voice, as much as Murphy adored teasing him about it. It was a horrible feeling, to lose your own voice. The last time he had heard it was so long ago, his memory of it was beginning to distort. He couldn’t even trust it to accurately remember what he sounded like.

He missed laughing more than anything. The feeling of his mouth stretching from the involuntary feeling of pure joy pouring from his mouth as the sound of his laughter filled the room he happened to be in or the streets he had been walking. Sometimes he would laugh until his face hurt from the act of it. The pain felt good, indescribably good. When was the last time he had laughed, actually laughed? He couldn’t remember. Was it last night? He didn’t know. There was only a small amount of the night he remembered, but it was good. He kissed Daryl and Daryl kissed him back. That there was good and so was the water flowing down his throat.  
***  
Michonne decided it was time for her to start her daily patrol of the Alexandrian grounds. The entire community had been too quiet, there was surely something up. Anything to stave off the boredom she had been feeling. Maybe she could convince that woman, Deanna Monroe, to let her go on a supply run. She needed some action, even if it was killing off a walker or twenty. She could scout out some nearby spots, maybe find something useful. She could take Daryl, he was a good hunter and tracker. She trusted him, too, with her life. He had seemed a little stir crazy, maybe he’d even appreciate a getaway from the mundane and jaded community Alexandria had displayed. Really, underneath the apocalyptic reality was another community of housewife drama and domestic fluff, ignorant to the outside world. For fucks sake, someone offered her a basket of fresh muffins for her trouble of finding them a bag of sugar on a previous scouting trip. She was not the type to slow down while running from a bullet.

It was decided, she summarized, she was going to march into Monroe’s office and tell her she needed to go out. She’d ask to recruit another person or two to go with her; anything to escape this faux-utopia in this very real dystopia. 

Deanna Monroe’s office was close. Michonne walked right in there and said, “I’m going on a scouting trip with your permission, I am also requesting that Daryl go with me as back up. We need to find more medical supplies and food before any event happens where they are needed.”

“Um, well,” Monroe began, surprised by Michonne’s bluntness, as the katana wielding woman tended to be very quiet. “Absolutely, that sounds like an effective strategy. Alexandria could always use more supplies.”

Michonne nodded and left the office, feeling proud to have gotten her way so easily and without issue. All she needed to do now was find Daryl.  
***  
Connor and Daryl had successfully procured a decent meal for the both of them to enjoy while trying to survive their hang over.

Daryl hadn’t thought much on the events of last night, besides the drinking. There was also the event of that morning.

Daryl needed some time to think. 

A knocking came at their front door before Michonne opened it, telling him that he was going on a scouting trip with her.

Connor looked at him, silently looking for his answer.

“Okay,” Daryl replied, “let me just finish eating.”

Michonne nodded, “Meet me at the front gate when you’re ready.”

“Fine,” he replied, watching her leave.

Connor looked down, into his food. 

“What?” Daryl asked, sensing the blonde was sulking over something.

Connor reached across the table they were sitting at, snatching his pen and pad, stained from last night’s pouring rain. ‘You’re leaving?’

“You heard the woman,” he said.

Connor wrote something down and handed it to Daryl, looking unhappy. ‘You’re leaving me here?’ it began, ‘without even saying anything? 

“What’s there to say?” Daryl asked, standing and taking his paper plate to the trash.

Connor stood, looking pissed before storming up the stairs and into his room, leaving the paper plate on the table, empty. He didn’t even grab his pen and pad.

Daryl knew they should talk. There was now...stuff! Stuff that was hanging over them, unsaid and new. It was all new. Daryl picked up Connor’s pad, flipping to a blank page. ‘I need to think,’ he wrote, hoping that Connor could read his shitty handwriting. He then flipped the pages to lay behind the pad, keeping his message face up when he placed it back on the table. Hopefully Connor would see it before he got back. 

He walked out the house after grabbing his canteen and crossbow, feeling like the biggest piece of shit left on the planet. But for now, he had a mission to do.  
***  
Michonne leaned against the car waiting for her and Daryl. They’d be driving out for who knows how long, looking for supplies, or until they had to turn around. The man sure was taking his sweet time, probably talking to Connor. The man looked a little upset when she left, but that wasn’t any of her business, unless it affected Daryl on their scouting trip because she planned on making it back safe.

Daryl made his way towards her, a scowl on his face making him look grumpier than usual.

When he approached the car, he opened the door, got in, and then slammed it shut. It was going to be one of those trips, Michonne concluded.


	9. Chapter 9

The scouting trip went as followed; Michonne drove the car out of Alexandria’s protective walls, led the car down the road, towards the interstate, and managed to avoid a cluster of walkers before she broke down and decided to ask Daryl what had happened to put such a scowl on his face. Her curiosity won her over in less than ten minutes.

“Nothin’,” he told her, unconvincingly.

Michonne could practically smell the bullshit that was clutching to the single word that left Daryl’s lips. “We have all trip to talk about whatever is bothering you,” she told him. “I can wait, but it better not affect this mission.”

Daryl stayed silent, turning his gaze out the window, watching the passing of the farmland scenery.

“I’ve got all day,” Michonne said, quietly, knowing Daryl could hear her.  
***  
The scouting trip went as followed; the two survivors reached an old farm that was seemingly abandoned, they parked the car, and then they began their search of the property for anything that could help.

“Found some clothes,” Daryl told Michonne, holding an old looking suitcase, presumably filled with the clothing he spoke of. “Men’s, women’s, and children’s clothes,” he continued, “must have been a family.”

“We all need clothing where we can get it,” she said, “no time to be picky, put it in the car.”

Daryl nodded, doing as she said.

There were some canned potatoes and corn in the farmhouse pantry. Whatever family used to live here, they obviously didn’t go shopping enough. But, food was food and the canned goods were coming with them.

“Over here,” Daryl yelled from the other end of the house. 

Michonne followed the sound of his voice, finding Daryl in front of an open door to a stairwell headed downwards. 

“Looks like we have ourselves a basement,” he said.

“I got a flashlight in the car,” she told him, running to get it from the car.

When she returned, she clicked it on. “Watch my back with your crossbow,” she told him, taking the lead. As the flashlight began to illuminate the dark room, it became clear why the farmhouse was abandoned, as well as where all the pantry food had went. 

The smell was rancid as the two continued down the stairs. At the bottom they were greeted with four bodies; one adult male, one adult female, one male teenager, and one female child.

“Probably the family,” Daryl muttered, noticing the holes in the children and female’s heads, seeing that the adult male’s head had a hole in the side. 

Murder-suicide, Michonne noticed, feeling sick.

“There’s food down here,” Daryl said, pushing the flashlight to the direction of the shelves packed with canned goods.

“Water, too,” Michonne added, seeing water bottles.

“Wonder what happened for them to give up so quickly,” Daryl questioned.

“People get scared,” Michonne replied, “especially when faced with something you don’t understand.”

“The unknown is scary,” Daryl muttered to himself.

“Let’s just get the food and any other guns.”  
***  
The scouting trip went as followed; Michonne and Daryl emptied the farmhouse of the entire stock of canned food, nearly filling up the car trunk. They then scavenged for any weapons of use, besides the hand gun used by the family, finding a hunting knife, a pocket knife, and a hunting rifle, along with seven boxes of bullets for the rifle and two boxes for the hand gun. The trunk of the car was completely full at that point and the two only had the back seat to work with if they found anything else.

“They have a good knife set,” Michonne said, admiring the collection.

“Then grab it,” Daryl told her, not looking at her or the knife set.

“That’s all the motivation I needed,” she said, grabbing the prized knife block holding the set Michonne so needed in her life.

Daryl turned to look at her, finally setting eyes on that which had Michonne so invested. It was a white knife block holding the said set. Said set had bright pink handles with molded red bows on the ends. “The fuck is that?”

“It’s Hello Kitty, but you can fuck right off.”  
***  
The scouting trip went as followed; Daryl and Michonne left the farmhouse, instead seeking out the abandoned barn, as it was also close.

“Watch my back,” Michonne told Daryl, who readied his crossbow. The last time he had dealt with anything regarding a barn, it had not gone well at all.

Michonne crept open the barn door. There were noises coming from the inside, but they didn’t sound human.

“Walkers,” Daryl muttered.

Michonne readied her blade, surveying the situation; two walkers on the left, five walkers on the right. There was also a hayloft where Michonne couldn’t see anything. “I’ll take out these two, just make sure those five don’t surround us,” she told Daryl.

“I can get one of them real quick,” he told her.

Michonne sliced through the two on the left quickly, before turning to take care of the remaining five.

Daryl took out one of the closest and then pulled out his knife.

By the time the two had finished them all off, the sun was starting to fall low, indicating it was time for them to hurry up and get back to Alexandria.

“Damn,” Michonne said, seeing that they were running out of daylight.

“Wanna check up top?” Daryl asked.

“You can, I’ll just check down here. There may be something in these drawers and containers.”

Daryl nodded before climbing up the hayloft. There was hay, as to be expected. There was also a backpack, an empty canteen, and a doll. Someone else was up here. Cautiously, Daryl shifted through the hay, bumping his hand against something solid that violently flinched before jumping up to attack. Bracing himself against the wall of the barn, Daryl took the hit of the body that leapt out at him with their tiny fists beating against his chest. Daryl dropped his knife and grappled the small body, subduing it and getting a good look at who his attacker was; a young girl with tears in her eyes and a snarl on her face.

“Daryl!” Michonne yelled, not being able to see what was going on.

“It’s okay, just a scared girl,” he assured.

“I’m not scared!” the girl yelled, trying to fight free.  
***  
The scouting trip went as followed; the girl Daryl had found was named Ash and had been on her own for four days after her mom and dad had been separated from her during a walker attack. She had run out of food early that morning, but had been chased into the barn by the walkers found earlier and fled up the hayloft. Hearing Michonne and Daryl coming near, she hid, hoping that they would leave her undetected. The plan failed, so she decided to fight her way free, which also failed.

“What do we do with her?” Daryl asked Michonne.

“Can’t leave her out here,” Michonne decided. “You’re coming with us.”

Ash was sitting on the floor of the barn, pouting over the foot step stains on her doll from Daryl during their scuffle. “I don’t even know who you people are,” she said, “You could be bad people.”

“You’re just going to have to deal,” Daryl said, hoisting her up and throwing her over his shoulder.

Ash screamed and began beating her little fists onto his back.

“Grab her stuff,” Daryl told Michonne, “I’ll take her to the car.”

“Daryl, you’re not even going to talk to her?”

“Sun’s settin’, don’t have time,” he replied.

“Let me go!”  
***  
The scouting trip went as followed; Daryl put Ash into the back seat, strapping her in with a seat belt, much to her protest. Michonne got into the driver’s seat and Daryl sat in the back, making sure the girl didn’t try to make a break for it.

Ash didn’t try to run; instead she just leaned against the window, looking out with an upset face and the doll in her arms.

“How old are you?” Michonne asked.

Ashe didn’t reply, only looking up from the window to continue her upset expression in the direction of the back of Michonne’s head.

“Where were you going to go?”

No reply.

Michonne reached over to the glove box, opening it up and pulling out some sort of wrapped item. “Answer my questions and I’ll let you have this rice crispy treat,” she incited.

Ash looked at the rice crispy, contemplating her options and then her stomach growled, answering for her. “Fine,” she said. “I’m nine years old.”

Michonne tossed the treat back behind her.

“I was going to go look for my parents,” she said between bites.

“Where?” Daryl asked. “They could be anywhere.”

Ash stayed silent. 

It was hard to tell what Ash was thinking, but Daryl got his answer when he heard the telltale sounds of a little girl crying. Not knowing what to do or how to react, Daryl reached out and put his hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, feeling like he fucked up again, just like he fucked up with Connor.

Ash just nudged his hand off of her shoulder and turned back to the window, trying to stifle her whimpers. 

They drove in silence for a few minutes more before Michonne broke it. “You never answered my question, Daryl.” 

“What did you ask?”

“Why were you in such a sour mood earlier?”

Daryl stayed silent and Michonne didn’t think she’d get an answer from.”I fucked up,” he said, voice heavy.

Michonne, startled that she received a response, waited for him to continue or see if that was all he would tell her.

“I upset Connor,” he said, pushing his hair out of his face and sighing. “We got drunk last night and I fucked up this morning,” he said.

“Who’s Connor?” Ash asked, suddenly curious. 

Daryl looked over to her. In the low lighting, he could still see that there were tear marks on her face and that her eyes were a little red, but she seemed to be better than before. “He’s,” he paused, “I really don’t know what he is,” he admitted.

“He’s another member of our group,” Michonne answered for her. “What happened last night?” she asked. “I saw that the whiskey was missing from the store room.”

“That must have been Connor,” Daryl said. “I found a bottle of scotch when we went on our last supply run and kept it. Connor was already drunk when he came home.”

“Damn boy,” Michonne spat, “I wanted that whiskey.”

Daryl smirked, releasing out a small chuckle. “He sure did live up to that Irish stereotype.”

“But, what happened?” Ash asked.

Daryl didn’t respond, trying to decide what to say, how to say it, and if he even wanted to admit anything. He was too far in, though, and maybe he would feel a little lighter after admitting that he liked the kiss and he wanted to continue kissing Connor. But, this girl was a stranger, she was also nine and he didn’t exactly feel comfortable talking about his feelings for another man in front of a child he barely knew.

“Maybe we can talk about this later,” Michonne suggested, much to Daryl’s relief.

“Yeah, good idea,” Daryl agreed.  
***  
The scouting trip went as followed; the survivors continued to drive, making small talk and trying to learn things about their new little companion, Ash. They learned things like that she and her parents were from Philadelphia, but they were in Georgia for her dad’s business trip and she came with her mom as a mini vacation. When things started to go bad, they had evacuated to a safe-zone, which immediately fell apart. They had tried to escape to another safe-zone, but that one had already fallen before they had managed to make it there. Along the way, they had found a group of survivors that just fled that safe-zone and were going to try their luck out on the countryside, where there were less people. They had done well with that for a good while, finding nice plot of land with a house that was easily defendable from walkers with their new group. That was, until another group appeared and killed off most of their group. Fleeing with their daughter, Ash and her parents escaped from the hostile group’s attack before getting separated by a roaming herd of walkers.

“Do you know how far away the hostile group was?” Michonne asked, trying to get a rough assumption of how long Alexandria had till it was going to be threatened. Could be days, could be weeks.

“I don’t know,” Ash told her. “I ran a lot and I got lost a lot.”

“Alexandria’s got maybe as much as a month,” Daryl said. “But, she had been running for days through the woods. Not as many roads leading to Alexandria, they would have found it by now, before we even got there. If we’re lucky, they won’t find us.”

“Let’s just hope nothing gives them wind of Alexandria.”

“Is that where we are going?” asked the child.

“Yeah, it’s where we live,” Michonne told her.

“Are there other kids there?”

“A few,” she then added, “mostly teenagers, but there are some kids around your age.” 

Ash nodded, smiling a bit in the now darkness of the car.

“Where is she going to stay?” Daryl asked.

The car stayed silent for a moment. Michonne then spoke up after quickly considering their options. “She can stay with me if she wants.”

“You sure?”

“I have an empty room and it seems like you and Connor have some stuff to work out,” she told him, bringing up the near taboo topic of Connor, yet again.

Daryl turned to the window on his side of the car, trying to will down the blush spreading across his cheeks. It wasn’t like he wanted the girl to stay with him and Connor. Michonne was right, she had the extra room and they didn’t. Not like he knew how to take care of a kid, anyway. “We do have things we need to talk about,” Daryl admitted. Damn, this car ride was taking forever.

“You can tell me about them when we get back,” Michonne said, continuing their ride all the way back to the welcoming gates of Alexandria.  
***  
It was dark when they returned. The gates were already opened. There was nobody there to greet them.

“Hold up,” Daryl told Michonne, who slowed the car to a stop. “Something’s wrong.”

“Stay in the car, Ash,” Michonne ordered.

“Keep your head down,” Daryl added.

The two quietly got out of the car, readying their weapons. They then peeked into the community, seeing someone walking towards them.

“Rick,” Michonne yelled, running to the man and hugging him.

Daryl lowered his crossbow, seeing that the man was in fact their leader. “What happened?” he demanded, looking around for any other signs of life. “Where’s Connor?”

“He’s safe,” Rick told him, trying to catch his bearings. He looked like he had just cheated death, barely. “He’s with Glenn and Maggie right now.”

“What happened?” Michonne asked, checking Rick over for injuries.

“We were,” Rick shook his head, sadly, “we were attacked.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two posts today because I've been slacking on posting for this story. Sorry about that!

Connor couldn’t believe that Daryl had agreed to go on a scouting trip without him. Well, it’s not like he expected to go on every trip with him or anything, but there were still so many unsettled feelings in his gut. There were things that were up in the air between him and the man. But, no, he decides to just up and leave with Michonne on a scouting trip, leaving Connor at home like some sort of housewife. Is that what he was now? He wouldn’t know, he never got a chance to even discuss what they were to each other before Daryl up and left. All he had left had been a single sentence: ‘I need to think.’ Well guess what, so did Connor. That asshole. Connor was fuming and needed to take a walk to calm himself.

He made it only about five minutes out the door before Maggie called him over, asking if he’d assist with the garden again. He nodded, yes, thinking that the gardening would be exactly the thing he needed to rid himself of his thoughts regarding that asshole.

“So, how was your night?” Maggie asked, slyly. She knew, of course she knew.

Connor couldn’t hide the smile blossoming across his face, along with the tinge of rosy redness spreading across his features. He pulled out his pen and pad from his back pocket and wrote, ‘I drank too much last night.’

“Oh yeah?” Maggie asked. “Do tell.”

Connor smiled, almost as if he was laughing, and shook his head rapidly.

“Aw, boo,” Maggie pouted, “tell me all the juicy gossip,” she pleaded.

Connor tried to hide the embarrassed smile, failing miserably.

“Something happened last night, I know it,” Maggie told him. “Rick and I saw the two of you leaving your house this morning, so dish.”

Connor, wide eyed, stared at Maggie shocked that he had been so obvious that morning. He picked up his pen. ‘Daryl had his own bottle, but I drank mine in the gazebo in the rain,’ he wrote. ‘When I got back to the house, I wasn’t really in control of anything. I was walking funny, tried to talk,’ he stopped writing, remembering how he tried to tell Daryl something, but couldn’t remember. ‘I was pretty drunk and so was Daryl.’

“You don’t have to continue,” Maggie said, seeing the hurt on his face.

Connor looked up and gave her an assuring smile that he would continue, besides, he felt like he owed her. ‘I’m a bit of a touchy drunk,’ he continued. ‘I kissed Daryl last night,’ he wrote, handing it to Maggie for her to read.

She read the pad, blushing and giggled. “And then?”

He took the pad away from her, ‘he kissed me back,’ he wrote, smiling.

“No wonder you two looked to happy.”

Connor’s smile fell a little, recalling that morning and remembering why he was so upset. ‘I kissed him again this morning and he accepted it. But, he wouldn’t talk to me about anything and left with Michonne on a scouting trip,’ he wrote. ‘I’m comfortable with who I am, now, I’m even getting comfortable with not being able to speak anymore, but I know that Daryl may not be and that this is a new and scary thing.’

“Daryl doesn’t show many feelings and when he does, it’s more like an explosion of repression,” Maggie told him. “Just give him time,” she added. “When he gets back, let him breach the topic and if he doesn’t, then bring it up again.”

Connor nodded, appreciating her help. She really was a good friend to him.

“Hey, Connor,” she began. “I’ve got something to tell you, too.”

Connor nodded and waited for her to continue.

She smiled and put her hands over her stomach. “Glenn and I are going to have a baby,” she said.

Warmth spread through Connor’s entire body as he gave Maggie a big toothy grin. ‘Congratulations!’ he wrote, hugging her.

“You and Rick are the only people we’ve told,” she said. “I wanted to tell you myself.”

‘Thank you.’  
***  
The ground had become softer after the rain from the day before. It was much easier to dig out the new weeds and to create little holes to plant the new seeds for the little garden to grow. They continued gardening mostly in a calm and serene silence. That was, until the first shot rang out.

“What was that?” Maggie had asked, instantly and instinctively clutching her pregnant abdomen. She stood up, searching for any source of the sound. Others had begun exiting their homes, as well, stupidly leaving the safety of their own homes in order to satisfy their curiosity of where that gunshot had come from in the open streets of Alexandria.

Connor took Maggie by the hand and escorted her into her house as the continued sounds of gun shots littered the air.

“Glenn’s out there,” she whimpered, fearing the worst for her husband.

Connor sat her down on the couch and wrote, ‘I will find him, stay here and don’t answer the door.’

She nodded, shakily. “Be careful,” she told him, reaching for the handgun she kept in the coffee table drawer in case of emergencies.

Connor accepted it and wrote that she needed to stay in her room after she locks the door behind him.

Maggie agreed and followed Connor’s orders, locking the door after he left and fleeing to her and Glenn’s bedroom.

Connor checked the clip and saw it was full. If he ran out, he’d have to run by their makeshift armory. He hoped he wouldn’t have to resort to killing and that the whole situation was a false alarm. His hopes were diminished as soon as he saw the first body. It was the football player.  
***  
Tara was hiding in the food storage, knowing that it wasn’t safe. If it were raiders attacking, this was one of the first places they’d search. She had to get out of there now. Grabbing the side arm located under the bottom shelf of one of the storage shelves, Tara began sneaking through the building and avoiding any windows. She had checked through a few at a safe distance and didn’t see any threats. That was, until someone opened the door. They carried a rifle and a sickening grin on their face. Tara hadn’t been seen yet, but that would change soon if she didn’t do something. She took in a deep breath and shot the man in the chest, knocking him back. After, she ran up to him and pulled out her knife, sinking it into his forehead, which bore a scar shaped like a W. Seeing this as a time to flee, she peaked through the still opened door and saw no one else. The man surely was not the only one invading their home, so she had to watch herself and make sure she wasn’t seen.  
***  
Connor had taken down three different men; all baring the W scar on their foreheads. They carried firearms, as well as melee weapons, but were no match for Connor’s accuracy and speed with the weapon. He took the fallen men’s guns and bullets, hoping that he would find others. 

A shot came by close, seeming to originate from the food storage. He hoped that he wouldn’t find a member of his group or Alexandria lying dead, relieved to see that it was not a face he knew when he did reach it.

“Connor,” Tara whispered.

He turned to her, seeing her seconds away from tears as she walked up to him and hugged him. She began to tremble as tears began to run freely from her eyes and soak his shirt. He wrapped his arms around her, glad to know she was safe.  
***  
Rick took out two men with melee weapons. The never stood a chance against the ex-cop. Running to the nearest house, he saw a group of the invaders kick down the door. Screaming could be heard before gun shots rained down, killing the inhabitants. Rick felt his chest tighten in fear, anger, and guilt for not being able to save them.

He couldn’t take on as many people as were in there without getting killed, so he decided to flee in order to find others. As he ran, he passed the bodies of Gabriel, the priest, and Eric, Aaron the recruiter’s boyfriend. Rick couldn’t spare them a second glance as he raced to his own house, dodging hostiles and running to see if his baby girl and son were safe.  
***  
Glenn ran to the armory as soon as the first shot rang, knowing that there was about to be an attack. Abraham, the red headed beast of a man that joined Rick’s group after Terminus, had gone to inform everyone of an invasion before the shot rang out, barely missing his skull. The two had met up in the armory, grabbing guns and bullets to fend off the hostiles.

“I got you’re back,” Abraham informed Glenn, as they began fighting off their attackers.

“There’s someone to the left,” Glenn said, seeing one of the teenagers hiding behind a bush and crying. It was Enid, a girl that he had seen hanging out with Carl. The two ran up to her and grabbed her, before hauling her with them to find a safe place to take her.

“I’m sorry,” she cried, over and over.  
***  
Carol had holed up in her house, holding a handgun close to her while hiding in the crawl space located in the back of her closet with Sam Anderson, the little boy that liked baking with her. They had only just pulled out a batch of chocolate chip cookies before the gun shot flew through her window and dug itself into her wall.

“We gotta stay quiet,” Carol told Sam as he tried to hold back his tears. The young boy was shaking violently as she tried to comfort him.

“My mom, dad, and brother are out there,” he whispers.

“We can’t worry about them right now,” she tells him. If they were lucky, his dad wouldn’t make it through this. That abusive bastard deserved to die after all the harm he had put his family through. Sam’s mother was a coward and Carol didn’t understand Rick’s fascination towards her, only seeing her as weak and useless. Sam’s brother, though, she didn’t really know him and struggles to find herself to care in the event of him not making it through the invasion. “Stay quiet, Sam,” she says. “We have to stay quiet.”  
***  
Sasha and Rosita aim their rifles through the upstairs bedroom windows, picking off their aggressors with W scars on their foreheads. 

“You okay?” Sasha asks Rosita. The kickback from the rifles has started to become brutal, boring into their skin and surely leaving deep bruises.

“I’m fine,” Rosita snarls, angry and refusing to let up against the invaders.

“Good,” Sasha replies, reloading her gun away from the window.

Rosita snaps her rifle to the right, pulling the trigger, and popping a W in the head before pulling back to reload her gun, as well.

Sasha pretends to not notice the angry red mark on the other woman’s shoulder where the rifle was digging in. She had her other things to worry about.

Eugene crawls through the bedroom door, not letting himself be seen through the window in case there were any other shooters. “I boarded up the doors and windows with the cabinet doors, so they won’t be getting through them any time soon.”

“Good job, Eugene,” Sasha told him, aiming down the sights to pick off another W. 

“You know,” Rosita began, “It’s just a matter of time till walkers pour in from all the gun shots.”

“Way to be a party pooper,” Sasha joked, shooting another W, barely hitting his shoulder.

“I got ‘em,” Rosita told her, finishing the job.  
***  
“Connor, there’s Rosita and Sasha,” Tara called out, pointing to the windows where the girls were sniping any W that had appeared in their line of sights.

Connor pointed to the doors in windows.

“Boarded up,” she saw. “Guess we’re not getting in there.”

“Tara!” Sasha called out, noticing them, “we’ll cover you!”

Tara and Connor ran across the street, seeing one W fall from the watchful eyes of Rosita and Sasha’s shots. Seeing a W that had not been noticed by the two, Connor pulled out his gun and shot him down before pulling Tara into a path between two houses.

The coast was clear and they ran towards the armory, hoping there would be their own people there. They tried not to look at the fallen bodies of Ron Anderson and Jessie Anderson, two members of Alexandria that had been suffering at the hands of Pete Anderson, who was nowhere to be found. 

“Wait,” Tara stopped Connor, before they ran across the street and to the armory. She pointed out the W’s that were creeping towards the armory. There were four of them. 

Connor could handle taking out two in no time, but he couldn’t count on Tara’s skill to take out the other two. Luckily, they didn’t have to as four people took out one each. Aaron, Heath, who was another supply runner, Morgan, a man Connor didn’t really know all that well, but was friends with Rick, and a woman Connor and Tara didn’t really know that name of, took the men out. 

Aaron turned, seeing them, and waved them over.

Tara and Connor ran across the street, seeing the gate in the distance. Walkers had started appearing and nobody had closed the gate yet. If they didn’t do anything quickly, the W’s wouldn’t be the only thing that the residents of Alexandria would have to worry about.

“You guys are alive,” Heath said.

“Uh, yeah,” Tara replied. “I see you all are, too.”

“For now,” the woman said.

“I’m sorry, but who are you? I don’t believe we’ve met,” Tara asked.

“Name’s Bradley,” she replied. “I also go out and recruit. I only got back last night from a two month long trip. Real shame, the people I brought didn’t make it back with me.”

“We can exchange introductions later,” Morgan interrupted. “We’re about to be in a whole other mess of issues if that gate doesn’t get closed.”

Connor nodded in agreement.

“Connor, come with Aaron and I,” Morgan said. “The three of us will close the gate while the rest of you cover us and take out any walkers you can.”

“Connor’s a good shot,” Tara said. “Let me help close the gate.”

“Can we trust his aim?” Bradley asked, skeptically.

“I’d trust him with my life,” Tara told her, looking a bit upset that the woman didn’t trust her friend.

“Aaron?” Bradley asked.

“He’s a good shot and I trust him, too,” Aaron replied, smiling at Connor.

“Then it’s a plan,” Heath said, readying his gun and popping off at a few walkers who fell to the ground.  
***  
The group got closer to the gate and the plan began to form into action with Heath and Bradley taking one side of the gate and Connor taking the other, taking down walkers quickly and effectively, while the other three managed to get-a-hold of the gate and began to pull.

“It’s stuck,” Tara cried out, causing the others to panic.

“Fuck, fuck,” Heath began, “what do we do?”

“Snap out of it,” Bradley said, hitting him over the head. “We just gotta lift it to get it unstuck.”

Connor nodded and began taking out more walkers until his gun ran dry. Pulling out his knife on his hip, he began stabbing the walkers in the head and moving closer to the other three to help with the gate.

“The runners fell off the track up top,” Morgan noticed. “We gotta put them back on.”

“How?” Aaron asked. “The gate is heavy.”

“We’re going to need the others.”

“Heath, Bradley, get over here,” Tara yelled.  
***  
“I haven’t heard anything in a while,” Sam said, leaning against Carol in the small and cramped crawl space.

“Doesn’t mean there aren’t any others out there,” she told him. “We are staying until we hear any of the others give the clear.”

“What if they don’t?” Sam asked, hiding his face into her arm.

“If they don’t,” she began, “well, we will deal with what if’s when they become the case.”

Sam whimpered into her shirt.  
***  
Rick’s daughter, gone. Rick’s son, gone. The man was falling apart. Their bodies lay bloodied on the carpet. Their murderers right beside them. 

Rick began to scream.  
***  
“Do you hear that?” Rosita asked.

“Someone’s screaming,” Eugene supplied from his corner.

“Yeah, but who?” Sasha asked.  
***  
“Lift!” Morgan screamed.

The small group began to lift the gate, ever so slowly, finally after three previous attempts, managing to put it back on its runners.  
***  
Glenn and Abraham took down what seemed to be the rest of the W’s. Walkers had begun to spill into the streets, as well, but they took quick care of them. Many of their own lined the streets, dead. Familiar faces, as well as people they had come to care about. They had taken Enid to a house and told her to lock herself in.

“Hadn’t seen Maggie,” Abraham assured, as the two patrolled the streets for any other threats, soon taking to houses to find survivors, stragglers, and the occasional W.

Glenn gave no reply to Abraham, refusing to let himself relax until he had his wife in his arms.

The two continued to patrol, finding Carol and Sam Anderson hiding. They had been hiding there since the beginning, since Abraham was shot at and the bullet flew through their window.

“Have you seen my parents and brother?” he asked them. They had seen his mother and brother, but they didn’t know how to tell him. Their silence spoke volumes as Sam began to cry.

“I’ll take care of him,” Carol assured, letting the men leave to continue their search and rescue mission.

They had seen Rosita and Sasha from their windows, telling the men that they had Eugene with them and would continue surveying from their windows.

Next were Aaron, Morgan, Tara, Connor, Heath, and a woman named Bradley. They had closed the gate and managed to take out quite a few walkers in the process, most certainly saving Alexandria from more destruction and potential ruin.

Connor ran up to Glenn, pulling out his pen and paper to write, ‘Maggie locked herself in your home.’

“Thank you,” Glenn replied while letting out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“We’ve been looking for her,” Abraham told him.

Connor nodded and returned to Tara, who was looking quite tired.

Before returning to Glenn’s house, the two also found Rick. 

Rick was...well...he was devastated. He had lost the two remaining members of his family. 

“We’ll bury them,” Abraham told him, before being stopped by Rick.

“No,” he said, broken and sorrowfully, “I need to do it.”

“I’ll stay with him,” Abraham told Glenn, who nodded and returned to Enid, taking her and going to his and Maggie’s home.

“Maggie?” Glenn knocked. Nothing. “Maggie?” Glenn knocked again, harder this time.

The door flew open and Glenn’s pregnant wife threw herself into his arms, gripping him tightly.

Enid moved herself inside, feeling unsafe out in the open.  
***  
The sun began to set as the hardest day the group had experienced in a while had finally come to its close. Rick and Abraham had gathered the bodies of Carl and Judith Grimes before burying them in the Alexandria cemetery. Pete Anderson was still nowhere to be found. Sam Anderson had been deemed orphaned and Carol chose to take responsibility of the little boy who had become her baking buddy. Michonne and Daryl had not yet returned, giving Connor an anxious and scared feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“You can stay at our place,” Maggie told Connor. “Enid is staying, too. It’ll be like a sleepover,” she said, trying to get a smile out of the man.

“Yeah,” Glenn agreed. “You’re welcome to stay if you’d like.”

Connor shook his head no, giving them a sad smile before making his way towards the gate to wait for Daryl and Michonne to return. He could see Rick opening the gate before taking a seat on the ground. Connor felt truly sorry for the man who had lost his entire family. Connor understood his pain. The loss of his brother was haunting and there was no stopping the ever present sorrow that accompanied him day after day.

A car pulled up, causing Rick to stand. Michonne ran to Rick, embracing him. Daryl could be seen speaking to Rick. Daryl’s face could be seen falling into a frown as he must have given them the news. Feeling an overwhelming amount of need to go hug the man, Connor raced towards him, embracing Daryl, who did not resist. 

“Connor,” Daryl said, “I’m here.”

Connor nodded, burying his head in Daryl chest. He could feel hot tears escape his eyes as the stress and fear of the day finally came out. The adrenaline had worn and Connor’s body felt heavy and weak as he clutched to Daryl, who moved his arms around him.

“Rick,” Michonne began, “we found someone out there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go.


	11. Chapter 11

Ash, still hiding in the car, contemplated her options. Option one was stay there until Daryl and Michonne came back for her, if they came back for her. For all she knew, they could be dead, killed by walkers, killed by humans, or had just straight up abandoned her. Option two was make a break for it. It was dark and she was pretty fast on her feet. She couldn’t risk taking any of her stuff, not even her doll. It would only slow her down. She wouldn’t have any food, water, or shelter, though. Besides, those other people were still out there, the ones that killed her other group. But, her parents were still out there, too, and they could still be alive and looking for her. She could find them.

Footsteps were heard outside of the vehicle, causing Ash’s train of thought to stop there. She clutched on to her doll, praying to God that it wasn’t walkers. She prayed it was Daryl or Michonne standing next to the car door. It was too dark to tell and the unknown was terrifying. 

“She was all alone?” a voice asked, a voice she didn’t know.

“Yeah, all alone in a barn, we couldn’t leave her,” said another voice, Michonne’s.

“Get her out,” the first mysterious voice said, “she can help unpack and we can get to know her a little better.”

Ash’s chest felt tight as the car door began to open. She had been hiding in the cramped floorboard. She was so scared, still. What if they were bad people? What if they were going to kill her even after taking all the time to bring her here?

“Hello,” said the mysterious voice. It belonged to a man with empty eyes and a messy beard.

Ash couldn’t help but scream in fear.  
***  
Daryl quickly put his hand over her mouth to muffle the little girl’s scream so she didn’t wake the remaining Alexandrians up. Rick must have startled her. Shit, Rick looked like he had just gotten through with his own personal hell and managed to live. No doubt there would be lingering effects of what had happened here. It was a bad day for them to leave Alexandria.

The little girl stopped screaming after a moment, calming herself down after Michonne managed to talk her through who Rick was and where they were, allowing Daryl to safely remove his hand.

“We’re going to unpack now,” Michonne told her. “We would like you to help.”

The little girl, Ash, nodded and got out of the car, carrying her backpack and doll.

Connor merely watched the interaction happening before him, not being able to sooth the little girl’s fears with soft words, nor would he be able to ease her fear through any interactions as a stranger. In other words, he felt pretty useless. At least he would be able to help carry what they had brought back, which turned out to be quite a bit!

Daryl looked over to Connor who had a sulky look on his face. He walked over to him, wrapping his arm around his back and pulling him towards his chest in an awkward side hug. He knew he had to make whatever was between them right, even if it meant getting out of his comfort zone. He owed that to Connor, as the man was no longer the debt he needed to repay a ghost. 

Connor let Daryl pull him towards him, even leaning his head on his shoulder. Even though he was still mad at him, he couldn’t bring himself to turn away the affection. The public affection, he reminded himself. He smiled at that. Maybe Daryl was willing work things out and talk with him regarding what hung between them.  
***  
It took them only thirty minutes to unload the car and set up the food and weapons to be recorded and categorized tomorrow morning. Michonne kept her Hello Kitty knife set and took Ash with her to show the girl her new living quarters. 

“My room is in here,” Michonne escorted the girl, showing her around the house. “This will be your room,” she said, bringing Ash into the spare bedroom to get her settled. 

Ash nearly dropped her doll from excitement to see she had a bed, a real honest to God bed. “All mine?” she asked, excitedly.

“As long as you stay here,” Michonne told her, happy to see the little girl’s reaction.

Ash turned around and hugged Michonne, repeating thank you over and over.  
***  
Daryl and Connor returned to their home. Connor closed the door and turned to Daryl, waiting for the man to say something, anything.

“What happened?” Daryl asked. “While we were gone, what happened?”  
***  
Rick couldn’t bring himself to return to that house. That blood stained and cursed home, no longer a home, just a building that he couldn’t return to. Instead, he wondered through the streets of the damaged Alexandria. There had been so many bodies, some still remaining and would be taken care of the next day, and there had been so many fallen friends. He had failed as a leader for his group. He needed to talk to Monroe tomorrow, he thought to himself. He needed to talk to her. To say what? He wasn’t sure. To blame her for not preparing the people enough, to yell at her that her ignorance as a leader had gotten his family killed, and to be able to relieve some of his guilt, probably. He knew it wasn’t her fault. Perhaps it was none of their faults. The only ones to blame were the W’s. There were so many dead...  
***  
Aaron cried alone in his home. Empty, along with his heart, as Eric was put in the ground. He had lost the one part of him that still felt good and happy. Without Eric, he was lost. He was alone.  
***  
Carol laid Sam down to sleep on the couch. Her spare room didn’t have a bed in it, so the couch would have to do. The boy had shed many tears, leaving him dehydrated, but he was too tired to stay up to drink more water. He had experienced one of the worst things that could ever happen to a child. Carol tried to be the tender and loving woman she once was to her own daughter, Sophia, who she had lost what felt like lifetimes ago, yet also as if she had only held her in her arms yesterday.  
***  
“Are you sure you want to stay?” Rosita asked Eugene.

“I’m not sleeping in an empty house tonight, even if I have to sleep on the floor,” he told her, sitting on the couch. “As uncomfortable as that would be, anything would be better than being alone after today.”

“Fine,” she said, leaving him in the living room on the couch to join Abraham in bed. The man had already passed out from exhaustion caused by the stressful events of the day, as well as digging graves and moving bodies.  
***  
Sasha sat in her living room on the floor and in a corner, holding her head in her hands. They had to do it, she told herself. It was them or her group, her family. She wasn’t going to lose anyone else. She stood up and walked upstairs, closing the door behind her.  
***  
“I promise, I’m okay, sweetie,” Maggie told Glenn for the hundredth, if not thousandth time. “The baby and I are going to be okay. We weren’t hurt.”

“I just wanted to make sure,” Glenn told her, getting into bed next to her and pulling her to his chest, holding her close to him. He almost lost this, he thought. 

“Connor made sure I was safe,” Maggie told her husband. “You’re not the only person who thinks I need protecting,” she said.

“I’ll have to thank him properly,” Glenn said. 

“I think he knows,” Maggie replied. “Besides, he has his own drama to deal with,” she chuckled.

“Oh yeah?” he asked. “Now I’m curious.”

“Well, I shouldn’t say anything. But, I think everyone will find out sooner or later.”

There was a knock on the door and Enid came in. 

“You alright?” Maggie asked, sitting up.

Enid nodded, hesitantly. She was shaking like a leaf and wouldn’t look them in the eyes. “Can I sleep in here?” she asked after a moment.

Glenn looked to his wife for permission before saying, “Of course you can,” and getting up to grab some of the extra blankets and a pillow for a pallet on the floor.

Enid was grateful for their forgiveness for what she had done. However, she still had many people to explain herself to. She knew others would not be so kind or understanding.  
***  
Tara cried in her room. She was all alone. There were no longer the strangers turned acquaintances, turning into friends that she looked forward to greeting ever day. Most of them were gone now, as easy as that.  
***  
Morgan sat on the floor and meditated. He had killed today, but it was necessary. He didn’t want to, but he had to; a life for the many lives of his people. Was that okay?  
***  
Bradley and Heath shared a house. Bradley was rarely there, so most of the things were Heath’s decorations and additions to their tiny home, besides the pre-furnished additions. 

“Better get to bed,” Bradley told him.

“I will in a minute,” he told her, sitting on their couch.

Bradley huffed and sat next to him. “Talk to me,” she said.

“Just thinking about what we did today.”

“What we had to,” she told him. “It was them or us.”

“I know,” he said. “I wouldn’t change that.”

“Then what has you down?” 

“I just wish it didn’t have to be this way.”  
***  
Connor wrote the detail of what had happened to Alexandria, to their friends, and their fallen comrades, while Daryl and Michonne were gone. He told them of who had survived and who...didn’t make it. He told him about how brave Tara was and how strong Morgan, Heath, Bradley, and Aaron were. He told him about how Glenn and Abraham took over taking care of the bodies for everyone and how thankful he was for them. He told Daryl about Carol and her role in caring for Sam now, to which Daryl smiled and mentioned that Carol was still a mother at heart. He told him about how great Rosita and Sasha were. He told him about Rick and how he was holding it together for people, but only barely. Connor can see the cracks and the fractures in Rick. He is holding it all in for the group, but the group will be there for him when he needs them, Connor felt. Connor knew he would be there for his leader and the friend that Rick has become.

“I should have stayed,” Daryl told him. “I should have been here for Rick and the group.”

Connor shook his head and put his hand on Daryl’s.

Daryl held Connor’s hand in his own. “I should have been here for you,” he said. “I shouldn’t have left you with so many unanswered questions after last night,” it had only been last night, yet it felt like days ago. “I know you are still mad at me, and I understand,” Daryl told him.

Connor looked into the man’s eyes, seeing that he truly did mean what he was saying.

“There are a lot of things that I need to work through with myself and problems I have with myself. I have a low self esteem, I don’t value myself, I don’t feel worthy of anything or anyone, just to name a few,” he said. “But, I do know that I don’t want to lose you, be it as a friend or more. I want us to stay like this,” he said motioning between them. 

Connor closed his eyes, feeling happiness he had not experienced before, even after the hellish day had ended, he felt happy. Connor nodded to Daryl’s words of wanting him, wanting to be with him, and hugged the dirty and greasy and all around good man that Daryl was, problems and all.

‘May I kiss you?’ Connor wrote.

Daryl’s answer was him taking the first step and connecting their lips together in a kiss that spoke more than words could about how Daryl had felt about Connor. All the unsaid things were in that kiss. The apologies, the confessions, and all the things that Daryl still wanted to tell Connor. That kiss said I want to continue to kiss you and for you to kiss me. I want to be able to hold your hand and smile when I see you. Daryl wanted to tell Connor all these things with words, as hard as it would be. Connor deserved to hear them, he deserved so much that Daryl wanted to give. But, a small part of him said that Daryl didn’t deserve Connor. That Daryl didn’t deserve to be happy. That part of Daryl was what held him back that morning and what was still holding him back and that was the part of himself Daryl needed to work on the most.

Connor pulled back, ending their kiss and giving the man in front of him a smile. That smile that Connor gave Daryl more than once that begged to be kissed, which is what Daryl decided to do. He kissed the corners of Connor’s lips, he kissed the tip of Connor’s nose, he wrapped his arms around Connor and pulled him to his chest in a hug, and then he told Connor that he was sorry. Sorry for being a coward.

“I will do better,” Daryl promised him.

‘We are in this together,’ Connor wrote, ‘I will be there for you and all I ask is for you to be there for me.’

“Together,” Daryl said, letting the word play on his tongue after it left his lips. He liked that word, together. He liked that it described he and Connor’s relationship. Together, they were together and that made Daryl happy.  
***  
Aaron left the house. He couldn’t stay in there anymore. Not will all of HIS stuff there, populating that building and constantly reminding him of what he had lost, who he had lost. He had to get out. He couldn’t be there with all those memories. He couldn’t stand it.

Aaron stumbled down the street, letting the tears fall down his face, not caring who saw him like he was. He was broken. There was a piece of him dead and gone, buried six feet under.

Aaron saw Rick sitting on a bench, hunched over and crying, as well. Right. That man lost his children, Aaron thought. He joined Rick on the bench as they both cried for the loss of their loved ones. 

Time had passed for the men, giving them no more tears to weep as they continued to sit on that bench. “Eric was a good man,” Rick croaked out, eventually. His voice was rough. 

“He was,” Aaron agreed. “I loved him. Still do.”

“He loved you, too. Anyone with eyes could see it.”

Aaron tried to smile, failed, and then looked over to Rick. The man’s eyes were as red as his, probably. He probably cried just as many tears as he had, too. They were one and the same; two lost souls in the land of the living, mourning the dead and gone. “Your son and daughter loved you, Rick.”

Rick nodded.

“Don’t ever doubt that. You gotta stay strong for them, just like I gotta stay strong for him,” Aaron told him.

“Feel like I could have done more for them,” Rick said. “I should’ve been there for them. Maybe then this wouldn’t have happened.”

Aaron didn’t know what to tell the man but, “I have said the same thing to myself since we put him in the ground.”

Rick looked to Aaron, seeing the broken man suffering as he, too, was suffering.

“But, we can’t change anything.”

“Got to live how they would have wanted us to,” Rick said.

“Exactly,” Aaron agreed, still feeling sick to his stomach. But, he knew he wasn’t alone and that was more than enough to keep him going. “Thanks, Rick,” he said. “I’m really glad I found your group.”

“I’m glad you did, too,” Rick said, meaning every word. “You know, Carl was really skeptical of you when you first showed up, didn’t like anything about the idea of Alexandria. Thought we’d be better on our own than with your community.”

“I thought as much,” Aaron said. “Your boy sure was critical and not very trusting, which could be a good thing nowadays.”

“Yeah, he’s like that. Got it from him momma,” Rick said, smiling a little.

“Eric was not fully on board with your group, either. Thought you’d rob us and run.”

“I’m not going to lie,” Rick began, “the thought crossed my mind if you ended up being psychos.”

They both chuckled at that.

“So,” Aaron began, changing the subject. “There was a rumor going on around town about you and Jesse.”

“Oh yeah?” Rick asked, chuckling, “and what did said rumor tell?” He knew the woman had been lost in the attack, along with her oldest son. He felt sad about it, he really did, but he knew couldn’t save someone who wouldn’t save themselves. 

“That you and Mrs. Anderson were having an affair,” Aaron supplied.

“An affair?” Rick asked. “Well, let me squash those rumors now. I went to Jesse once about her husband and was willing to help, but she did nothing. She said she was interested in me, but I rejected her advances. It’s just something I cannot condone, even during the apocalypse.”

“The honorable Rick Grimes,” Aaron laughed. It felt good to laugh.

Rick laughed as well, a real laugh, and felt lighter.

Maybe I will be okay, they both thought. They may be gone, but I will be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end of this story. I have not started on the next one, but I'll get on that eventually.
> 
> Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Reminder: Please no spoilers in the comments Thank you for reading!  
> This is un-beta'd, all mistakes are on me.


End file.
